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'ARE to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt,

CA

And every grin, so merry, draws one out.
Expostulatory Odes. Ode xv.

A fellow in a market town,

Most musical, cried razors up and down.

Farewell Odes. Ode iii.

JOHN LANGHORNE. 1735-1779.

OLD on Canadian hills or Minden's plain,

COLD

Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain;

Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew;
The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew,
Gave the sad presage of his future years,

The child of misery, baptized in tears.*

The Country Justice. Part i.

* 'This allusion to the dead soldier, and his widow, on the field of battle, was made the subject of a print by Bunbury, under which were engraved the pathetic lines of Langhorne. Sir Walter Scott has mentioned, that the only time he saw Burns, this picture was in the room. Burns shed tears over it; and Scott, then a lad of fifteen, was the only person present who could tell him where the lines were to be found.'

254

BARBAULD-MORE- JONES.

MRS. BARBAULD. 1743-1825.

MAN is the nobler growth our realms supply,

And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

The Invitation.

This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.*

A Summer's Evening Meditation.

То

HANNAH MORE. 1745-1833.

'O those who know thee not, no words can paint! And those who know thee, know all words are

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SIR WILLIAM JONES. 1746-1794.

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,

Whose accents flow with artless ease,

Like orient pearls at random strung.

A Persian Song of Hafiz.

* Often ascribed to Young.

On parent knees, a naked new-born child
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,

Calm thou may'st smile, while all around thee weep.

From the Persian.

What constitutes a state?

Ode in Imitation of Alcaus.

Men who their duties know,

But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain.

And sovereign law, that state's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate,

Ibid.

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

Ibid.

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven,
Ten to the word allot, and all to heaven.*

Ibid.

CAPTAIN CHARLES MORRIS.

1832.

SOLID

OLID men of Boston, make no long orations;
Solid men of Boston, drink no deep potations.

Billy Pitt and the Farmer.

JOHN TRUMBULL. 1750-1831.

BUT optics sharp it needs, I ween,

To see what is not to be seen.

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But as some muskets so contrive it,
As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
And though well aimed at duck or plover,
Bear wide, and kick their owners over.

McFingal. Canto i. Line 93.

No man e'er felt the halter draw,

With good opinion of the law. Ibid. Canto iii. Line 489.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 1751-1816,

A

PROGENY of learning. The Rivals. Acti. Sc. 2.

You are not like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once, are you?

Ibid. Act iv. Sc. 2.

The quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands; we should only spoil it by trying to explain it.

Ibid. Activ. Sc. 3.

As headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.

Ibid. Act v. Sc. 3.

My valour is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out, as it were, at the palm of my hands.

Ibid. Act v. Sc. 3.

I own the soft impeachment.

Ibid. Act v. Sc. 3.

Steal! to be sure they may, and, egad, serve your

best thoughts as gypsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make 'em pass for their own.*

The Critic. Acti. Sc. 1.

No scandal about Queen Elizabeth I hope.

Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Where they do agree on the stage, their unanimity is wonderful.

Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 2.

You shall see a beautiful quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin. School for Scandal. Acti. Sc. 1.

I leave my character behind me. Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;

Here's to the widow of fifty;

Here's to the flaunting, extravagant quean,
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
Let the toast pass;

Drink to the lass;

I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

Ibid. Act iii. Sc. 3.

An unforgiving eye, and a damned disinheriting

countenance.

I ne'er could any lustre see

Ibid. Act iv. Sc. 1.

In eyes that would not look on me ;
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip

But where my own did hope to sip.

The Duenna. Acti. Sc 2.

* Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse;
Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known,
Defacing first, then claiming for his own.

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