Book ii
. Chap. x._
In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.
_Christmas Carol. Stave 2._
CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH. 1813- ----.
Thought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought; Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught.
_Stanzas._
We are spirits clad in veils; Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails To remove the shadowy screen.
_Stanzas._
F. W. FABER. 1814-1863.
For right is right, since God is God,[653-1] And right the day must win; To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin.
_The Right must win._
Labour itself is but a sorrowful song, The protest of the weak against the strong.
_The Sorrowful World._
FOOTNOTES:
[653-1] See Crabbe, page 444.
CHARLES MACKAY. 1814- ----.
Cleon hath a million acres,--ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace,--in a cottage I.
_Cleon and I._
But the sunshine aye shall light the sky, As round and round we run; And the truth shall ever come uppermost, And justice shall be done.
_Eternal Justice. Stanza 4._
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; Aid it, hopes of honest men!
_Clear the Way._
Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free.
_Some love to roam._
There 's a good time coming, boys! A good time coming.
_The Good Time coming._
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when earth was young.
_Tubal Cain._
ELLEN STURGIS HOOPER. 1816-1841.
I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I woke, and found that life was Duty. Was thy dream then a shadowy lie? Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly; And thou shalt find thy dream to be A truth and noonday light to thee.
_Life a Duty._
PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. 1816- ----.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Life 's but a means unto an end; that end Beginning, mean, and end to all things,--God.
_Festus. Scene, A Country Town._
Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
_Scene, Another and a Better World._
America! half-brother of the world! With something good and bad of every land.
_Scene, The Surface._
ELIZA COOK. 1817- ----.
I love it, I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
_The Old Arm-Chair._
How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When memory plays an old tune on the heart!
_Old Dobbin._
NATHANIEL P. WILLIS. 1817-1867.
At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.[655-1]
_Necessity for a Promenade Drive._
For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, And makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice And the light of a pleasant eye.
_Saturday Afternoon._
It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes, And pleasant scents the noses.
_The Month of June._
Let us weep in our darkness, but weep not for him! Not for him who, departing, leaves millions in tears! Not for him who has died full of honor and years! Not for him who ascended Fame's ladder so high From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky.
_The Death of Harrison._
FOOTNOTES:
[655-1] See Haliburton, page 580.
WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 1817- ----.
I laugh, for hope hath happy place with me; If my bark sinks, 't is to another sea.
_A Poet's Hope._
I sing New England, as she lights her fire In every Prairie's midst; and where the bright Enchanting stars shine pure through Southern night, She still is there, the guardian on the tower, To open for the world a purer hour.
_New England._
Most joyful let the Poet be; It is through him that all men see.
_The Poet of the Old and New Times._
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 1819-1891.
Earth's noblest thing,--a woman perfected.
_Irené._
Be noble! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own.
_Sonnet iv._
Great truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of eternity.
_Sonnet vi._
To win the secret of a weed's plain heart.
_Sonnet xxv._
Two meanings have our lightest fantasies,-- One of the flesh, and of the spirit one.
_Sonnet xxxiv._ (_Ed. 1844._)
All thoughts that mould the age begin Deep down within the primitive soul.
_An Incident in a Railroad Car._
It may be glorious to write Thoughts that shall glad the two or three High souls, like those far stars that come in sight Once in a century.
_An Incident in a Railroad Car._
No man is born into the world whose work Is not born with him. There is always work, And tools to work withal, for those who will; And blessed are the horny hands of toil.
_A Glance behind the Curtain._
They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak. . . . . . They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three.
_Stanzas on Freedom._
Endurance is the crowning quality, And patience all the passion of great hearts.
_Columbus._
One day with life and heart Is more than time enough to find a world.
_Columbus._
Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right; And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
_The Present Crisis._
Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne.
_The Present Crisis._
Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust, Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 't is prosperous to be just; Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside, Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified.
_The Present Crisis._
Before man made us citizens, great Nature made us men.
_On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington._
Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold.
_To the Dandelion._
This child is not mine as the first was; I cannot sing it to rest; I cannot lift it up fatherly, And bless it upon my breast.
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle, And sits in my little one's chair, And the light of the heaven she 's gone to Transfigures its golden hair.
_The Changeling._
The thing we long for, that we are For one transcendent moment.
_Longing._
She doeth little kindnesses Which most leave undone, or despise.
_My Love. iv._
Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, We Sinais climb and know it not.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
'T is heaven alone that is given away; 'T is only God may be had for the asking.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it; We are happy now because God wills it.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First._
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,-- Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
_The Vision of Sir Launfal. Part Second. viii._
There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on.
_A Fable for Critics._
Nature fits all her children with something to do.
_A Fable for Critics._
Ez fer war, I call it murder,-- There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that. . . . . . An' you 've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i._
Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame; Ev'y thin' thet 's done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i._
This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur.[659-1]
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii._
Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man; He 's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,-- He 's ben true to _one_ party, an' thet is himself.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii._
We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii._
But John P. Robinson, he Sez they did n't know everythin' down in Judee.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii._
I _don't_ believe in princerple, But oh I _du_ in interest.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vi._
Of my merit On thet pint you yourself may jedge; All is, I never drink no sperit, Nor I haint never signed no pledge.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii._
Ez to my princerples, I glory In hevin' nothin' o' the sort.
_The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii._
Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin'.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity-Zekle.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
All kin' o' smily round the lips, An' teary round the lashes.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'._
Our Pilgrim stock wuz pithed with hardihood.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vi._
Soft-heartedness, in times like these, Shows sof'ness in the upper story.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii._
Earth's biggest country 's gut her soul, An' risen up earth's greatest nation.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii._
Under the yaller pines I house, When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented, An' hear among their furry boughs The baskin' west-wind purr contented.
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x._
Wut 's words to them whose faith an' truth On war's red techstone rang true metal; Who ventered life an' love an' youth For the gret prize o' death in battle?
_The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x._
From lower to the higher next, Not to the top, is Nature's text; And embryo Good, to reach full stature, Absorbs the Evil in its nature.
_Festina Lente. Moral._
Though old the thought and oft exprest, 'T is his at last who says it best.[660-1]
_For an Autograph._
Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote.
_Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865._
Here was a type of the true elder race, And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
_Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865._
Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past.
_The Cathedral._
The one thing finished in this hasty world.
_The Cathedral._
These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred, Each softly lucent as a rounded moon; The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.
_In a copy of Omar Khayyám._
The clear, sweet singer with the crown of snow Not whiter than the thoughts that housed below.
_To George William Curtis._
But life is sweet, though all that makes it sweet Lessen like sound of friends' departing feet; And Death is beautiful as feet of friend Coming with welcome at our journey's end. For me Fate gave, whate'er she else denied, A nature sloping to the southern side; I thank her for it, though when clouds arise Such natures double-darken gloomy skies.
_To George William Curtis._
In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscle trained: know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes, or when she 'll say to thee, "I find thee worthy; do this deed for me"?
_Epigram._
In vain we call old notions fudge, And bend our conscience to our dealing; The Ten Commandments will not budge, And stealing will continue stealing.
_Motto of the American Copyright League_ (written Nov. 20, 1885).
Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character.
_Among my Books. First Series. Dryden._
A wise scepticism is the first attribute of a good critic.
_Among my Books. First Series. Shakespeare Once More._
One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.
_Among my Books. First Series. Shakespeare Once More._
Aspiration sees only one side of every question; possession many.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
Truly there is a tide in the affairs of men; but there is no gulf-stream setting forever in one direction.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and saving it from all risk of crankiness, than business.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
It was in making education not only common to all, but in some sense compulsory on all, that the destiny of the free republics of America was practically settled.
_Among my Books. First Series. New England Two Centuries ago._
Talent is that which is in a man's power; genius is that in whose power a man is.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
There is no work of genius which has not been the delight of mankind, no word of genius to which the human heart and soul have not sooner or later responded.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
Every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
Sentiment is intellectualized emotion,--emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself.
_Among my Books. First Series. Rousseau and the Sentimentalists._
In all literary history there is no such figure as Dante, no such homogeneousness of life and works, such loyalty to ideas, such sublime irrecognition of the unessential.
_Among my Books. Second Series. Dante._
Whoever can endure unmixed delight, whoever can tolerate music and painting and poetry all in one, whoever wishes to be rid of thought and to let the busy anvils of the brain be silent for a time, let him read in the "Faery Queen."
_Among my Books. Second Series. Spenser._
The only faith that wears well and holds its color in all weathers, is that which is woven of conviction and set with the sharp mordant of experience.
_My Study Windows. Abraham Lincoln, 1864._
It is by presence of mind in untried emergencies that the native metal of a man is tested.
_My Study Windows. Abraham Lincoln, 1864._
What a sense of security in an old book which Time has criticised for us!
_Library of Old Authors._
There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.
_Democracy and Addresses._
Let us be of good cheer, however, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.
_Democracy and Addresses._
The soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on, good to live on, good to die for and to be buried in.
_Garfield._
A great man is made up of qualities that meet or make great occasions.
_Garfield._
It ["The Ancient Mariner"] is marvellous in its mastery over that delightfully fortuitous inconsequence that is the adamantine logic of dreamland.
_Coleridge._
He gives us the very quintessence of perception,--the clearly crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive
## particulars have evaporated from the memory.
_Coleridge._
If I were asked what book is better than a cheap book, I should answer that there is one book better than a cheap book,--and that is a book honestly come by.
_Before the U. S. Senate Committee on Patents, Jan. 29, 1886._
FOOTNOTES:
[659-1] See Moore, page 519.
[660-1] See Emerson, page 604.
CHARLES KINGSLEY. 1819-1875.
O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee!
_The Sands of Dee._
Men must work, and women must weep.
_The Three Fishers._
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand sweet song.
_A Farewell._
The world goes up and the world goes down, And the sunshine follows the rain; And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown Can never come over again.
_Dolcino to Margaret._
ULYSSES S. GRANT. 1822-1885.
No other terms than unconditional and immediate surrender. I propose to move immediately upon your works.
_To Gen. S. B. Buckner, Fort Donelson, Feb. 16, 1862._
I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer.
_Despatch to Washington. Before Spottsylvania Court House, May 11, 1864._
Let us have peace.
_Accepting a Nomination for the Presidency, May 29, 1868._
I know no method to secure the repeal of bad or obnoxious laws so effectual as their strict construction.
_From the Inaugural Address, March 4, 1869._
Let no guilty man escape, if it can be avoided. No personal considerations should stand in the way of performing a duty.
_Indorsement of a Letter relating to the Whiskey Ring, July 29, 1875._
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 1822-1888.
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge.
_Shakespeare._
Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too!
_Requiescat._
To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man.
_Growing Old._
Time may restore us in his course Goethe's sage mind and Byron's force; But where will Europe's latter hour Again find Wordsworth's healing power?
_Memorial Verses._
Wandering between two worlds,--one dead, The other powerless to be born.
_Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse._
The kings of modern thought are dumb.
_Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse._
_Philistine_ must have originally meant, in the mind of those who invented the nickname, a strong, dogged, unenlightened opponent of the children of the light.
_Essays in Criticism. Heinrich Heine._
There is no better motto which it [culture] can have than these words of Bishop Wilson, "To make reason and the will of God prevail."
_Culture and Anarchy. P. 8._
RUTHERFORD B. HAYES. 1822- ----.
He serves his party best who serves the country best.[665-1]
_Inaugural Address, March 5, 1877._
FOOTNOTES:
[665-1] See Pope, page 339.
LEONARD HEATH.
On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave, The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows, Like fond weeping mourners, lean over his grave. The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle; He heeds not, he hears not, he 's free from all pain; He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle; No sound can awake him to glory again![666-1]
_The Grave of Bonaparte._
Yet spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, But like thine own eagle that soars to the sun Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee A name which before thee no mortal hath won. Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle, No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain: Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, No sound can awake thee to glory again.
_The Grave of Bonaparte._
FOOTNOTES:
[666-1] This song was composed and set to music, about 1842, by Leonard Heath, of Nashua, who died a few years ago.--BELA CHAPIN: _The Poets of New Hampshire, 1883, p. 760._
BAYARD TAYLOR. 1825-1878.
Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold.
_Bedouin Song._
They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recall'd a different name, But all sang Annie Lawrie.
_The Song of the Camp._
The bravest are the tenderest,-- The loving are the daring.
_The Song of the Camp._
DINAH M. MULOCK. 1826- ----.
Two hands upon the breast, And labour 's done;[667-1] Two pale feet crossed in rest, The race is won.
_Now and Afterwards._
FOOTNOTES:
[667-1] Two hands upon the breast, and labour is past.--_Russian Proverb._
ALEXANDER SMITH. 1830-1867.
Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
A poem round and perfect as a star.
_A Life Drama. Sc. ii._
H. F. CHORLEY. 1831-1872.
A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long!
_The Brave Old Oak._
Then here 's to the oak, the brave old oak, Who stands in his pride alone! And still flourish he a hale green tree When a hundred years are gone!
_The Brave Old Oak._
ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. 1832- ----.
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight! Make me a child again, just for to-night!
_Rock me to sleep._
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years! I am so weary of toil and of tears,-- Toil without recompense, tears all in vain! Take them, and give me my childhood again!
_Rock me to sleep._
BISHOP HENRY C. POTTER. 1835- ----.
We have exchanged the Washingtonian dignity for the Jeffersonian simplicity, which was in truth only another name for the Jacksonian vulgarity.
_Address at the Washington Centennial Service in St. Paul's Chapel, New York, April 30, 1889._
If there be no nobility of descent, all the more indispensable is it that there should be nobility of ascent,--a character in them that bear rule so fine and high and pure that as men come within the circle of its influence they involuntarily pay homage to that which is the one pre-eminent distinction, the royalty of virtue.
_Address at the Washington Centennial Service in St. Paul's Chapel, New York, April 30, 1889._
FRANCIS M. FINCH.
Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Love and tears for the Blue, Tears and love for the Gray.[668-1]
_The Blue and the Gray._
FOOTNOTES:
[668-1] This poem first appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly."
GROVER CLEVELAND. 1837- ----.
After an existence of nearly twenty years of almost innocuous desuetude these laws are brought forth.
_Message, March 1, 1886._
It is a condition which confronts us--not a theory.[669-1]
_Annual Message, 1887._
I have considered the pension list of the republic a roll of honor.
_Veto of Dependent Pension Bill, July 5, 1888._
Party honesty is party expediency.
_Interview in New York Commercial Advertiser, Sept. 19, 1889._
FOOTNOTES:
[669-1] See Disraeli, page 607.
FRANCIS BRET HARTE. 1839- ----.
Which I wish to remark,-- And my language is plain,-- That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
Ah Sin was his name.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
With the smile that was childlike and bland.
_Plain Language from Truthful James._
FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON. 1852- ----.
The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
_Light._
MISCELLANEOUS.
It may well wait a century for a reader, as God has waited six thousand years for an observer.
JOHN KEPLER (1571-1630). _Martyrs of Science_ (_Brewster_). _P. 197._
Needle in a bottle of hay.
FIELD (---- -1641): _A Woman's a Weathercock._ (_Reprint, 1612, p. 20._)
He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will.
SAMUEL TUKE (---- -1673): _Adventures of Five Hours. Act v. Sc. 3._
Laugh and be fat.
JOHN TAYLOR (1580?-1684). Title of a Tract, 1615.
Diamond cut diamond.
JOHN FORD (1586-1639): _The Lover's Melancholy. Act i. Sc. 1._
A liberty to that only which is good, just, and honest.
JOHN WINTHROP (1588-1649): _Life and Letters. Vol. ii. p. 341._
I preached as never sure to preach again, And as a dying man to dying men.
RICHARD BAXTER (1615-1691): _Love breathing Thanks and Praise._
Though this may be play to you, 'T is death to us.
ROGER L' ESTRANGE (1616-1704): _Fables from Several Authors. Fable 398._
And there 's a lust in man no charm can tame Of loudly publishing our neighbour's shame; On eagles' wings immortal scandals fly, While virtuous actions are but born and die.
STEPHEN HARVEY (_circa_ 1627): _Juvenal, Satire ix._
May I govern my passion with absolute sway, And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away.
WALTER POPE (1630-1714): _The Old Man's Wish._
When change itself can give no more, 'T is easy to be true.
CHARLES SEDLEY (1639-1701): _Reasons for Constancy._
The real Simon Pure.
SUSANNAH CENTLIVRE (1667-1723): _A bold Stroke for a Wife._
When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on.
GEORGE SEWELL (---- -1726): _The Suicide._
Studious of ease, and fond of humble things.
AMBROSE PHILLIPS (1671-1749): _From Holland to a Friend in England._
My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts, By time subdued (what will not time subdue!), A horrid chasm disclosed.
JOHN PHILIPS (1676-1708): _The Splendid Shilling. Line 121._
For twelve honest men have decided the cause, Who are judges alike of the facts and the laws.
WILLIAM PULTENEY (1682-1764): _The Honest Jury._
Farewell to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean, Where heartsome wi' thee I hae mony days been; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We 'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
ALLAN RAMSAY (1686-1758): _Lochaber no More._
Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I.
WILLIAM OLDYS (1696-1761): _On a Fly drinking out of a Cup of Ale._
Thus Raleigh, thus immortal Sidney shone (Illustrious names!) in great Eliza's days.
THOMAS EDWARDS (1699-1757): _Canons of Criticism._
One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.
ROBERT DODSLEY (1703-1764): _The Parting Kiss._
A charge to keep I have, A God to glorify; A never dying soul to save, And fit it for the sky.
CHARLES WESLEY: _Christian Fidelity._
Love divine, all love excelling, Joy of heaven to earth come down.
_Divine Love._
Of right and wrong he taught Truths as refined as ever Athens heard; And (strange to tell!) he practised what he preached.
JOHN ARMSTRONG (1709-1779): _The Art of Preserving Health.