HOME.

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss
Of paradise that has survived the fall!

The Task, Bk. III.

W. COWPER.

The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. Night Thoughts, Night VIII.

To make a happy fireside clime

To weans and wife,

DR. E. YOUNG.

That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.

Epistle to Dr. Blacklock.

R. BURNS.

For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
To the Bishop of Lincoln.

A. COWLEY.

His native home deep imaged in his soul.
Odyssey, Bk. XIII.
HOMER. Trans. of POPE.

Stay. stay at home, my heart, and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,

For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble and full of care;

Song.

To stay at home is best.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

His home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. West Indies, Pt. III.

J. MONTGOMERY.

At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year.

The Farmer's Daily Diet.

T. TUSSER.

He kept no Christmas-house for once a year: Each day his boards were filled with lordly fare. A Maiden's Dream.

R. GREENE.

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze; And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore, Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore. The Traveller.

O. GOLDSMITH.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn

I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With coldness still returning ;
Alas! the gratitude of men

Hath oftener left me mourning.

Simon Lee.

W. WORDSWORTH.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks. Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2.

GRAVE, THE.

1

SHAKESPEARE.

O, snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year,

And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom :

O, Snatched Away!

LORD BYRON.

Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be dressed,

And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast;

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,

There the first roses of the year shall blow.

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. A. POPE.

And from his ashes may be made

The violet of his native land.

In Memoriam, XVIII.

Sweets to the sweet: farewell,

A. TENNYSON.

I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife:
I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid,
And not t' have strewed thy grave.

Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

How loved, how honored once, avails thee not,

To whom related, or by whom begot;

A heap of dust alone remains of thee;

'T is all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. A. POPE.

Lay her i' the earth;

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring!

Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

Brave Percy, fare thee well!

Ill-weaned ambition, how much art thou shrunk :
When that this body did contain a spirit,

A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth

Is room enough.

King Henry VI., Pt. I. Act v. Sc. 4.

SHAKESPEARE.

Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone, Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown, Along the walls where speaking marbles show What worthies form the hallowed mould below; Proud names, who once the reins of empire held, In arms who triumphed, or in arts excelled; Chiefs, graced with scars, and prodigal of blood; Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood; Just men, by whom impartial laws were given; And saints, who taught and led the way to heaven. On the Death of Mr. Addison.

The solitary, silent, solemn scene,

T. TICKELL.

Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
Blended in dust together; where the slave

Rests from his labors; where th' insulting proud
Resigns his powers; the miser drops his hoard:
Where human folly sleeps.

Ruins of Rome.

J. DYER.

Then to the grave I turned me to see what therein lay; "T was the garment of the Christian, worn out and thrown

away.

Death and the Christian.

GREATNESS.

F. A. KRUMMACHER.

That man is great, and he alone,
Who serves a greatness not his own,
For neither praise nor pelf:
Content to know and be unknown:
Whole in himself.

A Great Man.

LORD LYTTON (Owen Meredith).
He fought a thousand glorious wars,
And more than half the world was his,
And somewhere, now, in yonder stars,
Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is.

The Chronicle of the Drum.

W. M. THACKERAY.

Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,

But the eternal substance of his greatness,-
To which I leave him.

The False One, Act ii. Sc. 1.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Greatness on goodness loves to slide, not stand, And leaves, for fortune's ice, vertue's firm land. Turkish History. Under a portrait of Mustapha I.

Such souls,

R. KNOLLES.

Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
A voice that in the distance far away
Wakens the slumbering ages.

Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 7.

GRIEF.

SIR H. TAYLOR.

Every one can master grief, but he that has it. Much Ado about Nothing, Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3.

SHAKESPEARE.

No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

The Corsair, Canto III.

LORD BYRON.

No greater grief than to remember days
Of joy when misery is at hand.

Inferno, Canto V.

I am not mad;--I would to heaven I were! For then, 't is like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief I should forget! King John, Act iii. Sc. 4.

DANTE.

SHAKESPEARE.

Not to the grave, not to the grave, my soul,

Follow thy friend beloved!

But in the lonely hour,

But in the evening walk,

Think that he accompanies thy solitude;

Think that he holds with thee

Mysterious intercourse:

And though remembrance wake a tear,
There will be joy in grief.

The Dead Friend.

R. SOUTHEY.

HABIT.

Habit with him was all the test of truth;

66

It must be right: I've done it from my youth." The Borough, Letter III.

G. CRABBE.

How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled town.
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v. Sc. 4.

SHAKESPEARE.

Hackneyed in business, wearied at that oar,
Which thousands, once fast chained to, quit no more.
Retirement.

W. COWPER.

Small habits, well pursued betimes,
May reach the dignity of crimes.

Florio, Pt. I.

HANNAH MORE.

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
OVID. Trans. of DRYDEN.

Metamorphoses, Bk. XV.

HAIR.

Those curious locks so aptly twined,
Whose every hair a soul doth bind.

To A. L. Persuasions to Love.

Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;

T. CAREW.

And when she winds them round a young man's neck,
She will not ever set him free again.

Faust: Sc. Walpurgis Night.

GOETHE.

Trans. of SHELLEY.

Her glossy hair was clustered o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair, and smooth.

Don Juan, Canto I.

It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette,

It was finer than silk of the floss, my pet;

LORD BYRON.

'T was a beautiful mist falling down to your wrist,

'T was a thing to be braided, and jewelled, and kissed"T was the loveliest hair in the world, my pet.

Janette's Hair.

C. G. HALPINE (Miles O'Reilly).