« AnteriorContinuar »
I've gazed on many a brighter face,
But ne'er on one, for years, Where beauty left so soft trace As it had left on hers.
Mrs. A. B. WELRY. With eyes
whose beams inight shame a night
Mrs. Esling's Broken Bracelet. Beauty in woman weaves a spell
Around poor man's devoted heart, And he must guard the fortress well,
Or else he'll feel its piercing dart;
Charms such as do in you exist,
J. T. WATSON
J. T. WATSON. He look'd With a rapt gaze of wild delight, For ne'er saw he so fair a sight.
J. T. WATSON Plato himself had not survey'd, Unmov'd, such charms as she display'd.
J. T. WATSON
He makes a beggar first, that first relieves him ;
Base worldlings, that despise all such as need;
BROME. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span
Oh, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store !
Would you, when thieves are known abroad,
Gay's Fables. Look round, the wrecks of play behold, Estates dismember'd, mortgag'd, sold ! Their owners now to jails confin'd, . Show equal poverty of mind.
Could fools to keep their own contrive,
Learn this, that hath old gamesters dearly cost :
The good old man, too eager in dispute,
Pope's Essay on Man.
'Byron's Don Juan, Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, if our creeds disagree?
Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried,
If he kneel not before the same altar with me? From the heretic girl of my soul shall I fly,
To seek somewhere else a more orthodox bliss ? No! perish the hearts and the laws that would try Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this
Moore. Mad as Christians used to be About the thirteenth century, There's lots of Christians to be had In this, the nineteenth, just as bad.
Where dwelt the ghostly owl, Shrieking his baleful note, which ever drave Far from their haunt all other cheerful fowl.
SPENSER's Fairy Queen. When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.
SHAKSPEARE. Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty.
SHAKSPEARE. While the cock, with lively din, Scriters the rear of darkness thin, A.:2 to the stack or the barn-door Proudly struts his dames before.
MILTON The noisy geese that gabbled in the pool.
W. H. BURI.EIGH
back; And the turkey-cock, smoothing his plumes in your face, Then ruffling so proud, as you bound from the place !
W. H. BUKLEIGH.
W. C. BRYANT