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Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine,
Pity, and smiles, and tears-which I had not;
And tenderness-but that I had for her;
Humility-and that I never had.

Her faults were mine-her virtues were her own.

Byron's Manfred, a. 2, s. 2.

For contemplation he and valour form'd,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace,
He for God only, she for God in him.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 4.

What admir'st thou, what transports thee so? An outside fair no doubt, and worthy well Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love, Not thy subjection.

Thus it shall befall

Him who to worth in woman overtrusting

Ibid. b. 8.

Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook,

And left to herself, if evil thence ensue,

She first his weak indulgence will accuse. Ibid. b. 9.

O fairest of creation, last and best

Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defac'd, deflow'r'd, and now to death devote?

O why did God,

Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven
With spirit masculine, create at last
This novelty on earth, this fair defect
Of nature?

Ibid.

Ibid. b. 10.

For either

He never shall find out fit mate, but such
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake;

Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain,
Through her perverseness, but shall see her gain'd
By a far worse, or if she love, withheld
By parents; or his happiest choice too late
Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound
To a fell adversary, his hate or shame :
Which infinite calamity shall cause
To human life, and household peace confound.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 19.

Such object hath the pow'r to soft'n and tame
Severest temper, smooth the rugged'st brow,
Enerve, and with voluptuous hope dissolve,
Draw out with credulous desire, and lead
At will the manliest, resolutest breast,
As the magnetic hardest iron draws.

Milton's Paradise Regained, b. 2.

Many are in each region passing fair
As the noon-sky; more like to goddesses
Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet,
Expert in am'rous arts, inchanting tongues
Persuasive, virgin majesty, with mild
And sweet allay'd, yet terrible t'approach,
Skill'd to retire, and in retiring draw
Hearts after them tangled in amorous nets.

To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn;
To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page;
To lend new flavour to the fruitful year,
And heighten nature's dainties; in their race
To rear their graces into second life;
To give society its highest taste;

Well-order'd home man's best delight to make;
And by submissive wisdom, modest skill,
With every gentle care-eluding art,
To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,
And sweeten all the toils of human life:
This be the female dignity, and praise.

Ibid.

Thomson's Seasons-Autumn.

THE WOODMAN.

Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd
The cheerful haunts of man; to wield the axe,
And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear,
From morn to eve his solitary task.

WORLD.

Cowper's Task, b. 5.

The world's a lab'rinth, where unguided men
Walk up and down to find their weariness:
No sooner have we measur'd with much toil
One crooked path, in hope to gain our freedom,
But it betrays us to a new affliction.

Beaumont's Night-Walker.

Where solid pains succeed our senseless joys,
And short-liv'd pleasures pass like fleeting dreams.

Rochester's Valentinian.

The world's a stormy sea,

Whose every breath is strew'd with wrecks of wretches,
That daily perish in it. Rowe's Ambitious Stepmother.
Is it a pride, alas! to please the world,

Where honest thoughts are a reproach to man,
Where knaves look great, and groaning virtue starves,
A world of madness, falsehood, and injustice?
Smith's Princess of Parma.

What is this world? Thy school, O misery!
Our only lesson is to learn to suffer;

And he who knows not that, was born for nothing.
Young's Revenge, a. 2.

Thou'st seen by me, and those who now despise me,
How men of fortune fall, and beggars rise;

Shun my example; treasure up my precepts;
The world's before thee-be a knave and prosper.
Lillo's Fatal Curiosity.

Pass but a moment, and this busy globe,
Its thrones, its empires, and its bustling millions
Will seem a speck in the great void of space.

Murphy's Grecian Daughter.

How was my heart incrusted by the world!
O how self-fetter'd was my grov'ling soul!
How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round
In silken thought, which reptile fancy spun,
Till darken'd reason lay quite clouded o'er
With soft conceit of endless comfort.

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1.
The world's a stately bark, on dang'rous seas,
With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril.

Ibid. n. 4.

The world's infectious; few bring back at eve
Immaculate, the manners of the morn.
Something we thought, is blotted; we resolv'd,
Is shaken; we renounc'd, returns again.

Present example gets within our guard,
And acts with double force, by force repell'd.
Ambition fires ambition; love of gain
Strikes, like a pestilence, from breast to breast;
Riot, pride, perfidy, blue vapours breathe;
And inhumanity is caught from man,
From smiling man.

Ibid.

Ibid.

A world, where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold,
Three dæmons that divide its realms between them,
With strokes alternate buffet to and fro

Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball;
Till, with the giddy circle, sick, and tir'd,

It pants for peace, and drops into despair. Ibid. n. 8.

Let not the cooing of the world allure thee;
Which of her lovers ever found her true?

Ibid.

There,

Even love itself is bitterness of soul,
A pensive anguish pining at the heart;
Or, sunk to sordid interest, feels no more
That noble wish, that never-cloy'd desire,
Which selfish joys disdaining, seeks alone
To bless the dearer object of its flame.

Thomson's Seasons-Spring.

Y.

YEOMAN.

Even therefore grieve I for those gallant yeomen,
England's peculiar and appropriate sons,

Known in no other land. Each boasts his hearth
And field as free as the best lord his barony,
Owing subjection to no human vassalage,

Save to their king and law. Hence are they resolute,
Leading the van on every day of battle,
As men who know the blessings they defend.
Hence are they frank and generous in peace,
As men who have their portion in its plenty.
No other kingdom shows such worth and happiness
Veil'd in such low estate.

Walter Scott's Halidon Hill.

YEW-TREE.

Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell
'Midst sculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms;
Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades,
Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports)
Embodied thick, perform their mystic rounds.
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.

Blair's Grave.

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