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Oh, the heart, that has truly lov’d, never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.

MOORK. Sweetest love! I'll not forget thee!

Time shall only teach my heart Fonder, warmer to regret thee, Lovely, gentle as thou art!

MOORE. There are three things a wise man will not trust : The wind, the sunshine of an April day, And woman's plighted faith.

SOUTHEY. Tell her I 'll love her while the clouds drop rain, Or while there's water in the pathless main.

Think not, beloved, time can break

The spell around us cast,
Or absence from my bosom take

The memory of the past.

The love that is kept in the beauty of trust,

Cannot pass like the foam from the seas,
Or a mark that the finger hath trac'd in the dust,
Where 't is swept by the breath of the breeze.

The mountain rill
Seeks, with no surer flow, the far, bright sea,
Than my unchang'd affection flows to thee.

Love, constant love!
Age cannot quench it—like the primal ray
From the vast fountain that supplies the day,

Far, far above
Our cloud-encircled region, it will flow
As pure and as eternal in its glow.




I lov'd thee in thy spring-time's blushing hour,

I lov'd thee in thy summer's ripen'd noon-
I lov’d thee in the blossom, bud, and flower-

The tear of April, and the smile of June :-
Fear not, then, fear not any hour will see
The heart grow cold that ever beats for thee!

With a kiss my vow was greeted

As I knelt before thy shrine;
But I saw that kiss repeated

On another lip than mine :
And a solemn vow was spoken

That thy heart should not be chang d;
But that binding vow was broken,
And thy spirit was estrang'd.

Though youth be past, and beauty fled,

The constant heart its pledge redeems,
Like box that guards the flowerless bed,
And brighter from the contrast seems.

Mrs. S. J. HALE.
Thou art fickle as the sea,

Thou art wandering as the wind,
And the restless, ever-mounting flames
Are not more hard to bind.

Inconstant! are the waters so

That fall in showers on hill and plain,
Then, tired of what they find below,

Ride on the sunbeams back again?

There is nothing but death

Our affection can sever,
And till life's latest breath

Love shall bind us for ever.



Where'er thou journeyest, or whate'er thy care,
My heart shall follow, and my spirit share.

MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY The finger of love, on my innermost heart,

Wrote thy name, O adored! when my feelings were young And the record shall 'bide till my soul shall depart, And the darkness of death o'er my being be flung.



Thus ev'ry object of creation
Can furnish hints for contemplation,
And, from the most minute and mean,
A virtuous mind can morals glean.

Gay's Fables.
'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours,
And ask them what report they've borne to heaven,
And how they might have borne more welcome news.

Young's Night Thoughts. A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Young's Night Thoughts. T'hanks to the human heart, by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts, that do often lie too deep for tears.

WORDSWORTH. Mount on Contemplation's wings, And mark the causes and the ends of things; Learn what we are, and for what purpose born, What station here 't is given us to adorn; How best to biend security with ease, And win our way thro' life's tempestuous seas.

GIFFORD's Perseui



It is fine
'To stand upon some lofty mountain thougiit,
And feel the spirit stretch into a view.

BAILEY'S Festus,
Within the deep,
Still chambers of the heart, a spectre dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time,
Heard from the tombs of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have past away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life.


Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes.

Infamous wretch !
So much below my scorn, I dare not kill thee !


He hears
On all sides, from innumerable tongues,
A dismal, universal hiss, the sound
Of public scorn.

MILTON's Paradise Lost,
Derision shall strike thee forlorn,

A mock’ry that never shall die ;
The curses of hate, and the hisses of scorn,

Shall burthen the winds of the sky;
And, proud o'er thy ruin, for ever be hurld,
T'he laughter of triumph, the jeers of the world.

Thou may'st from law, but not from scorn escape;
The pointed finger, cold, averted eye,
Insulted virtue's hiss—thou canst not fly.




Pardon is for men,
And not for reptiles-we have none for Steno,
And no resentment; things like him must sting,
And higher beings suffer; 't is the charter
of life. The man, who dies by the adder's pang,
May have the crawler crush’d, but feels no anger:
'T was the worm's nature; and some men are worms
In soul, more than the living things of tomhs

BYRON'S Marino Faliero

And would'st thou turn, Like one contemn'd, to seek for more contempt!

Rufus DAWES.


0! who can lead, then, a more happy life,
Than he, that, with clean mind and heart sincere,
No greedy riches knows, nor bloody strife?

The remnant of his days he safely past,
Nor found they lagg’d too slow, nor flew too fast;
He made his wish with his estate comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

PRIOR. Still falling out with this and this, And finding something still amiss; More peevish, cross, and splenetic Than dog distract or monkev sich.

BUTLER's Hudibras. Peace brother, be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ;

or, grant they be so, while they rest unknown, What need a man forestall his date of grief, And run to meet what he would most avoid ?

Milton's Comics.

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