ANGER-TEMPER-RAGE.

And to be wroth with one we love,

Doth work like madness in the brain.

Of all bad things by which mankind are curs'd,
Their own bad tempers surely are the worst.

COLERIDGE.

CUMBERLAND'S Menander

And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;
The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

BYRON'S Don Juan

Patience!-Hence-that word was made
For brutes of burden, not for birds of prey;
Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine,-
I am not of thine order.

BYRON'S Manfred.

Balk'd of its wish; or, fiercer still,

All furious as a favour'd child

A woman piqued, who has her will.

BYRON'S Mazeppa.

For his was not that blind, capricious rage,
A word can kindle and a word assuage;
But the deep working of a soul unmix'd
With aught of pity, where its wrath had fix'd.

BYRON'S Lara.

His brow was like the deep when tempest-tost.

BYRON'S Vision of Judgment.

Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

'The ocean lash'd to fury loud,
Its high waves mingling with the cloud,
Is peaceful, sweet serenity

To anger's dark and troubled sea.

J. W. EASTBURNE

At this she bristled up with ire-
Her bosom heav'd-her eye glanc'd fire;
The blush that late suffus'd her face,

To deeper crimson now gave place;

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ANIMAL-BEAST - BRUTE.

'Those eyes, that late were tright with joy,
Glared now like lightning to destroy;
And she with such resentment burn'd

As only woman feels when scorn'd.

J. T. WATSON.

ANIMAL-BEAST -- BRUTE.

But they do want the quick discerning power,
Which doth in man the erring sense correct;
Therefore the bee did suck the painted flower,
And birds, of grapes the cunning shadow peck'd.
DAVIES' Immortality of the Soul.

The subtle dog scours, with sagacious nose,

Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows,
Against the wind he takes his prudent way,

While the strong gale directs him to the prey.
Now the warm scent assures the covey near;
He treads with caution, and he pants with fear:
Then close to ground in expectation lies,
Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise.

GAY'S Rural Sports.

A colt, whose eyeballs flamed with ire,
Elate with strength and youthful fire.

The lion is, beyond dispute,
Allow'd the most majestic brute;
His valour and his generous mind
Prove him superior of his kind.

Had fate a kinder lot assign'd,
And form'd me of the lap-dog kind,
I then, in higher life employ'd,
lad indolence and ease enjoy'd;

GAY's Fables.

GAY's Fables.

ANIMAL-BEAST - BRUTE.

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And, like a gentleman caress'd,
Had been the lady's favourite guest.

The wily fox remain'd,

A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around
In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.

GAY's Fables

SOMERVILE'S Chase

Of all the brutes by nature form'd,

The artful beaver best can bear the want
Of vital air; yet, 'neath the whelming tide,
He lives not long; but respiration needs
At proper intervals.

SOMERVILE'S Chase

Let cavillers deny

That brutes have reason; sure 't is something more, 'Tis heaven directs, and stratagems inspire

Beyond the short extent of human thought.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

The snappish cur

Close at my heel with yelping treble flies.

POPE.

The hare, timorous of heart, and hard beset
By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs,

And more unpitying man.

THOMSON's Seasons.

And, scorning all the taming arts of man,

The keen hyena, fellest of the fell.

THOMSON'S Seasons

The lively, shining leopard, speckled o'er

With many a spot, the beauty of the waste.

THOMSON'S Seasons.

He stands at bay

And puts his last faint refuge in despair;

The big round tears run down his dappled face ;

He groans in anguish.

THOMSON'S Seasons.

The tiger darting fierce,

Impetuous on the prey his eye hath doom'd.

THOMSON'S Seasons

The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whispering wind.

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

GOLDSMITH

GOLDSMITH

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
Bay deep-mouth'd welcome, as we draw near home.

BYRON'S Don Juan

They revel, rest, then fearless, hopeless, die.

C. SPRAGUE

The brindled a.tamount, that lies

High in the boughs to catch his prey.

W. C. BRYANT

ANTIQUARY.

They say he sits

All day in contemplation of a statue

With ne'er a nose; and dotes on the decays,

With greater love than the self-loved Narcissus
Did on his beauty.

What toil did honest Curio take,
What strict inquiries did he make,
To get one medal wanting yet,
And perfect all his Roman set!
"Tis found! and oh! his happy lot!

SHAKERLY

"T is bought, lock'd up, and lies forgot!

PRIOR

APPAREL-DRESS - FASHION.

He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin,

'That touch'd the ruff that touch'd Queen Bess's chin.

YOUNG'S Love of Fame.

Rare are the buttons of a Roman's breeches,

In antiquarian eyes surpassing riches:

Rare is each crack'd, black, rotten, earthen dish,
That held of ancient Rome the flesh and fish.

DR. WOLCOT's Peter Pinda.

Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new-reaped,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home.

Drew from the deep Charybdis of his coat

SHAKSPEARE.

What seem'd a handkerchief, and forthwith blew
His vocal nose.

SHAKSPEARE,

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

SHAKSPEARE

The fashion

Doth wear out more apparel than the man.

SHAKSPEARE

It is the mind that makes the body rich;

And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds.
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.

What is the jay more precious than the lark,

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