ASTONISHMENT-SURPRISE. So lilies in a glass enclose- Tis hard, where dulness overrules, Then must I plunge again into the crowd CowLbf DEAN SWIFT. BYRON'S Childe Harold. Then as we never met before, and never, Like the stain'd web, that whitens in the sun, BYRON. Grow pure by being purely shone upon. MOORE'S Lalla Rookh. ASTONISHMENT-SURPRISE. As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, He stood THOMSON'S Seasons. Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, THOMSON'S Seasons. Were his eyes open? Yes, and his mouth too;- BYRON'S Don Juan. 60 AUTHORS-WRITERS. A war-horse, at the trumpet's sound, A lion, rous'd by heedless hound, Than he who heard that vow display'd. BYRON's Bride of Abydos AUTHORS-WRITERS. How many great ones may remember'd be, No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, SPENSER'S Ruins of Time He that writes, Or makes a feast, more certainly invites Much thou hast said, which I know when SIR R. HOWARD. BUTLER'S Hudibras. Authors are judg'd by strange capricious rules; The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: For fools are only laugh'd at-wits are hated. POPE. AUTUMN-SPRING-WINTER. &c. Some write, confin'd by physic; some, by debt; None but an author knows an author's cares Our doctor thus, with stuff'd sufficiency YOUNG. COWPER MOORE. One hates an author that's all author, fellows So very anxious, clever, fine and jealous, One don't know what to say to them, or think, Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows; Of coxcombry's worst coxcombs, e'en the pink Are preferable to these shreds of paper, These unquench'd snuffings of the midnight taper. BYRON'S Beppo. AUTUMN — SPRING — WINTER, &c. Perceivest thou not the process of the year, 61 62 AUTUMN-SPRING-WINTER, &c. Autumn succeeds, a sober, tepid age, See, winter comes, to rule the varied year, DRYDEN'S Ovid. THOMSON'S Seasons. As yet the trembling year is unconfin'd, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets THOMSON'S Seasons. But see, the fading many-colour'd woods, THOMSON'S Seasons From bright'ning fields of ether, fair disclos'd, THOMSON'S Seasons ... U winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . . COWPER'S Task Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid, GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village And winter, lingering, chills the lap of spring. GOLDSMITH'S Traveller Fain would my muse the flowing treasure sing, POPE AUTUMN-SPRING-WINTER, &c. Where summer's beauty 'midst of winter stays, POPE Eternal Spring, with smiling verdure, here GARTH But mighty nature bounds as from her birth. BYRON'S Lara. The merry May hath pleasant hours, and dreamily they glide, As if they floated, like the leaves, upon a silver tide; birds, And the waters flow to music, like a tune with pleasant words. The keen north-west, that heaps the drifted snow. DAVID HUMPHREYS. The sultry summer past, September comes, And the meridian sun, CARLOS WILCOX Most sweetly smiling with attemper'd beams, Skeds gently down a mild and grateful warmth. The melancholy days are o'er, CARLOS WILCOX The saddest of the year, W. C. BRYANT. 63 |