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UNANIMITY - UNBELIEF-USURPER-VANITY.

What
Are a few drops of human blood? 't is false,
The blood of tyrants is not human; they,
Like to incarnate Molochs, feed on ours,
Until 't is time to give them to the tombs
Which they have made so populous. Oh world!
Oh men! what are ye, and our best designs,
That we must work by crime to punish crime?
Byron's Doge of Venice.

Thy suing to these men were but the bleating
Of the lamb to the butcher, or the cry
Of seamen to the surge: I would not take
A life eternal, granted at the hands

Of wretches, from whose monstrous villanies
I sought to free the groaning nations.

Then was the evil day of tyranny, Of kingly and of priestly tyranny, That bruis'd the nations long.

535

Pollock's Course of Tune
Rulers still

Have been of equal mind, except a few,
Cruel, rapacious, tyrannous and vile.

Pollock's Course of Time.
Tyranny himself,

The enemy, although, of reverend look,
Hoary with many years, and far obey'd,
Is later born than Freedom.

Bryant.

And what is this splendour that dazzles the sight,
Of what are the minions of tyranny proud?

Byron's Doge of Venice. 'Tis a gleam that but deepens the horror of night--
"Tis a lightning that flashes from slavery's cloud.

The old human fiends,

With one foot in the grave, with dim eyes, strange
To tears, save drops of dotage, with long white
And scanty hairs, and shaking hands, and
heads

As palsied as their hearts are hard, they counsel,
Cabal, and put men's lives out, as if life
Were no more than the feelings long extinguish'd
In their accursed bosoms.

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Else you dare not deal thus by them or me. There is a populace, perhaps, whose looks

Anor..

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A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boist'rously maintain'd as gain'd.
Shaks. King Johr.

Thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
Out-faced infant state, and done a rape

Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.

Shaks. King John.
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.
Shaks. Henry VI. Part III

A murderer, and a villain;
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe

May shame you; but they dare not groan nor Of your precedent lord: - a vice of kings:

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A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!

VANITY.

Shaks. Hamlet.

Now 'gan his heart all swell in jollity,
And of himself great hope and help conceiv'a
That, puffed up with smoke of vanity,
And with self-loved personage deceiv'd,
He 'gan to hope, of men to be receiv'd
For such as him thought or fain would be:

But for in court gay portance he perceiv'd

A gallant show to be in greatest gree,

VARIETY.

Eftsoons to court he cast t' advance his first de- Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,

Spenser's Fairy Queen. Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please and sate a curious taste?

gree.

Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.

Shaks. Richard II.

These our actors,

Milton's Comus If all the world

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I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue has no tongue to check the pride.
Milton's Comus.

No penance can absolve our guilty fame;
Nor tears, that wash out sin, can wash out shame.
Prior's Henry and Emma,
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Pope's Essay on Man.

VICISSITUDE - VICTORY.

537

The heart resolves this matter in a trice,
Men only feel the smart, but not the vice!

Pope.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill.

Pope's Rape of the Lock.
Falsehood and fraud grow up in every soil,
The product of all climes.

Addison's Cato.

When men of infamy to grandeur soar,
They light a torch to show their shame the more.
Those governments which curb not evils cause!
And a rich knave's a libel on our laws.

Oh sad vicissitude

Of earthly things! to what untimely end
Are all the fading glories that attend

Upon the state of greatest monarchs, brought!
What safety can by policy be wrought,
Or rest be found on fortune's restless wheel!
May's Henry II.

A blossom full of promise is life's joy,
That never comes to fruit. Hope, for a time,
Suns the young floweret in its gladsome light,
And it looks flourishing · -a little while-
'Tis pass'd, we know not whither, but 't is gone,
Miss Landon

Young's Love of Fame. Roses bloom, and then they wither;

Ah me! from real happiness we stray,
By vice bewilder'd; vice, which always leads,
However fair at first, to wilds of wo.

Thomson's Agamemnon.

Ah, vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!
While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape
The fascination of thy magic gaze?

A cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape,
And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape.
Byron's Childe Harold.

Not all that heralds rak'd from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
Byron's Childe Harold.
There dwelleth in the sinlessness of youth
A sweet rebuke that vice may not endure.

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VICISSITUDE.

Mrs. Embury.

Thus doth the ever-changing course of things
Run a perpetual circle, ever turning;
And that same day, that highest glory brings,
Brings us unto the point of back-returning.

Daniel's Cleopatra.
Is there no constancy in earthly things?
No happiness in us, but what must alter?
No life, without the heavy load of fortune?
What miseries we are, and to ourselves?
Ev'n then when full content seems to sit by us,
What daily sores and sorrows.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas.
Thus run the wheels of state, now up, now down,
And none that lives finds safety in a crown.

Markham and Sampson's Herod and Antipater. O! life is a waste of wearisome hours,

Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns ; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers, Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorn. Moore.

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Is wag'd in Heaven's approving sight-
The smile of God is victory!

Ay, nerve thy spirit to the proof,

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Halleck. I never did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now.

Whittier.

And blench not at thy chosen lot,
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown-yet faint thou not.
Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
The hissing, stinging bolt of scorn;
For with thy side shall dwell at last,
The victory of endurance born.

Bryant.

Like spectral lamps, that burn before a tomb,
'The ancient lights expire;

I wave a torch, that floods the lessening gloom
With everlasting fire!

Crown'd with my constellated stars I stand

Beside the foaming sea,

And from the Future, with a victor's hand,

Claim empire for the Free!

Shaks. Merchant of Venice.

Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike
As if we had them not.

Shaks. Measure for Measure

I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
And would my father had left me no more!
For all the rest is held at such a rate,
As brings a thousand fold more care to keep,
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

Shaks. Henry VI. Part III.
Forgive me this my virtue:
For, in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg;
Yea, curb, and woo, for leave to do him good.
Shaks. Hamlet.
Virtue's a solid rock, whereat being aim'd,
The keenest darts of envy, yet unhurt,

J. Bayard Taylor.-The Continents. Her marble hero stands, built of such basis,

While they recoil and wound the shooter's face.

Beaumont's Queen of Corinth.

VILLAIN.

But he's an arrant knave.

Valour, employ'd in an ill quarrel, turns

There s ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark, To cowardice, and virtue then puts on

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Given to make us wretched! ah! sad portion! Fatal to all that have thee! Shunn'd on earth,

Depress'd, and shown but in severest trials: Condemn'd to solitude: then shining most, When black obscurity surrounds! Poor, poor! But ever beautiful.

Lord Lansdown's Heroic Love. Then, to be good is to be happy: Angels Are happier than mankind, because they're better. Guilt is the source of sorrow: 't is the fiend, The avenging fiend, that follows us behind With whips and stings. The blest know none of this;

Virtue, those that can behold thy beauties,
But rest in everlasting piece of mind,
Those that seek, from their youth, thy milk of And find the height of all their heaven is good.
goodness,

Their minds grow strong against the storms of

fortune;

ness.

Rowe's Fair Penitent.

Virtue never is defac'd! unchang'd

And stand, like rocks, in winter gusts unshaken. By strokes of fate, she triumphs o'er distress,
And every bleeding wound adorns her beauty.
Cibber's Casar in Egypt.

Lord Brooke's Mustapha. Each must, in virtue, strive for to excel; That man lives twice, who lives the first life well. Herrick.

The frowns of heaven are to the virtuous, like Those thick dark clouds, which wandering sea

men spy,

And often show the long-expected land
Is near.

Sir W. Davenant's Unfortunate Lovers. Whilst passion holds the helm, reason and honour Do suffer wrack; but they sail safe, and clear, Who constantly by virtue's compass steer.

Davenport's King John and Matilda. This is true glory and renown, when God Looking on earth, with approbation marks The just man, and divulges him through heav'n To all his angels, who with true applause Recount his praise.

Milton's Paradise Regained. Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt; Surpriz'd by unjust force, and not enthrall'd; Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory; But evil on itself shall back recoil.

Millon.

How strange a riddle virtue is! They never miss it, who possess it not; And they who have it ever find a want! Lord Rochester's Valentinian.

If there's a power above us,

And that there is, all nature crics aloud
Thro' all her works, he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy.
Addison's Cato.

The man who consecrates his hours
By vig'rous effort, and an honest aim,
At once he draws the sting of life and death;
He walks with nature, and her paths are peace.
Young's Night Thoughts.
Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Young's Night Thoughts.
His hand the good man fastens on the skies,
And bids earth roll, nor reels her idle whirl.
Young's Night Thoughts.

A good man, and an angel! these between,
How thin the barrier? What divides their fate 1
Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year;
Or, if an age, it is a moment still;
A moment, or eternity 's forgot.

Young's Night Thoughts.
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.

Young's Night Thoughts

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