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BEAST - BEAUTY.
BEAST. — (See ANIMAL).
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
SHAKSPEARE All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth.
SHAKSPEARF Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown In courts, and feasts, and high solemnities, Where most may wonder at the workmanship. It is for homely features to keep home; They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, and tresses like the morn ?There was another meaning in those gifts.
Milton's Comus Virtue can brook the thoughts of
age That lasts the same through every stage, Though you by time must suffer more Than ever woman lost before !
Gay's Fables 'Tis not a lip or eye we beauty call, But the full force and joini effect of all.
Pope's Essay on Criticism
If to her share some female errors fall,
Milton's Paradise Lost
Dryden. "T' is not a set of features or complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire; Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye,
Rowe's Fair Penitent.
and palls upon
No fantastic robe,
JOANNA BAIJ.LIE. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowing of an innocent heart.
Rogers’ Ita’y. There was a soft and pensive grace, A cast of thought upon her face, That suited well the forehead high, The eyelash dark, and downcast eye; The mild expression spoke a mind In duty firm, compos’d, resign'd.
Scorr's Rokeby For faultless was her form as beauty's queen,
And every winning grace that love demands,
Mrs. Tigh's Psyche,
BYRON's (tiaour, So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breathBut beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue, which haunts it to the tomb.
Fair as the first that fell of womankind.
BYRON'S Giaour. So bright the tear in beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry ; So sweet the blush of bashfulness, Even pity scarce can wish it less.
Byron's Bride of Abydos Who hath not prov'd how feebly words essay 'To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Fainis into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess The might, the majesty of loveliness?
Byron's Bride of Abydos. Such around her shone The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone : The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmoniz'd the whole, And, Oh! that eye was in itself a soul !
Byron's Bride of Abydos. Heart on her lip, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
BYRON's Beppn. Who can curiously behold The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek, Nor feel the heart can never all
BYRON's Childe Harold. And formd for all the witching arts of love.
BYRON's Childe Harold. Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands, Would shake the saintship of an anchorite.
Byron's Childe Harold. The bee from that lip more nectar could sip Than from all the sweet buds in the bower.
Oh, fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close :
CAMPBELL. Who hath not paus'd while beauty's pensive eye Ask'd from his heart the tribute of a sigh? Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace—the magic of a name?
CAMPBELL. 'T were easier far to paint the hues of heaven,
When Morn, resplendent with new glory, wakes,
To the gold-crested wave, the while it breaks,
Dawa's Geraldine. For every
block of marble holds a Venus, With nothing but unchisellid stone between us.
Dawe's Geraldine, Thou art beautiful, young lady;
But I need not tell you this,
J. G. WHITTIER.
in sweetness what it lacks in grace ;
Mrs. A. B. WELBY.