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Could Eve's weak hand, extended to the tree,
Pope. Still in constraint your suffering sex remains, Or bound in formal, or in real chains. Pope.
They, with joint force oppression chaining, set
Glad of his liberty, the captive dog
To mingle with our own;
Than aught by mortal known.
Against our bounds in vain,
We shrink and clasp our chain.—Mrs. Hemans.
I gave my love a chain of gold,
Her beauteous neck to bind;
With chains around my mind.
For ’neath her lovely chin,
My fetters are within!
Then come the wild weather-come sleet or come snow,
Longfellow, from the German.
Shakspere. Unknowingly she strikes and kills by chance, Poison is in her eyes, and death in every glance.
Dryden. Be juster, heav'ns! such virtue punished thus, Will make us think that chance rules all above, And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots Which men are forc'd to draw.
How could judicious atomists conceive
With fatal declination, turn aside. Southey. Vox et præterea nihil; and the name Of chance is but the argument of fools, Swoln with th' expansion of their own conceit. Can that which is not, shape the things that are? Is chance omnipotent-resolve me why The meanest shell-fish, and the noblest brute, Transmit their likeness to the years that come?
Thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest; A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.-Shakspere.
The lopped tree in time may grow again,
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower: The sorriest wight may find release of pain,
The driest soil suck in some moist’ning shower. Times go by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.
A chance may win that by mischance was lost,
That net that holds no great, takes little fish; In some things all, in all things none are crost;
Few all they need, but none have all they wish. Unmingled joys here to no man befall; Who least hath some, who most hath never all.
Southwell. Thus doth the ever changing course of things
Run a perpetual circle, ever turning;
Youth Knows nought of changes! Age hath traced them all, Expects, and can interpret them.
Isaac Comnenus, Love bears within itself the very germ
Of change; and how should this be otherwise?
The time has been, when no harsh sounds would fall
Ah me! what is there in earth's various range,
Imitated from Mallet.
Forward, forward let us range;
Down the ringing groves of change.— Tennyson.
There's many a cherish'd flower,
Within the flitting hour.
Unprized, unnoticed, lying-
It changes but in dying.
Once mine, and mine for ever;
That shall desert them never.
Time, chance, the world defying;
That changes but in dying. G. W. Doane,
How much of change there lies in little space!
Have come o'er thy heart,
Have doomed us to part;
To love thee no more,
Where I once did adore. Hoffman.
J. H. Clinch.
Mrs. Osgood. Now bear me hence away, I like not this close room, so small and dim; Around the curtain'd bed are shadows grim,
Which gauntly play,
Turning my mind from pray’r,
George F. Wood.