AND, next, within the entry of this lake, Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils. Revenge impatient rose, Sackville. Milton. He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sound so full of woe. And ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied; Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. The last revenge is love;-disarm Collins. Anger with smiles; heal wounds with balm; S. C. Wilkes. Revenge maintains her empire in the breast, When tempests wildly rage, and nights are dark, Reason, when tossed upon her angry main. H. Trevanian. 546 REVERENCE. REVOLUTION. RHETORIC. REVERENCE. BUT yesterday the word of Cæsar might Had not men with hoary heads revered, Or boys paid reverence when a man appeared, Dryden, from Juvenal. REVOLUTION. 1.-YES, Revolution! since you call it so. All pearls, brocades, and new-plucked strawb'ry leaves, Where nothing vulgarer than peers conspired. Hydes, Sunderlands, Godolphins, Churchills made, That is not Revolution! 2.-What then is? 1.—What you might know, were but the people wise! What your son's sons must some day know in England; If the few govern only for the few. G. S. Smythe. RHETORIC. ENJOY thy gay wit and false rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced. Milton. For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope. Butler. RHYME. RHYME. NOT marble, nor the gilded monuments 547 Shakspere. I mean to weave fine linen cloth no more; Ere as a minstrel from my home I strayed. And must be I suppose until I die. Yet 't would be well to throw all rhymes aside; Michael Beheim. Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, Who only plainly say "My God, my king." Herbert. Great are his perils in this stormy time, Thy body findeth ample room But thy spirit found the earth For the low-hung sky of time. Churchill. Lowell. RICHES, the dumb god, that givest all men tongues, I am as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl. Shakspere. Riches cannot rescue from the grave, Dryden. Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, Riches, like insects, while concealed they lie, Madam, I own 't is not your person Riches, the wisest monarch sings, A man he was to all the country dear, Pope. Butler. Swift. Goldsmith. RIDDLES. RIDICULOUS. RIDDLES. 549 ALL who enter in this world a faded picture with them bear, And go searching in the tavern if the interpreter be there; In it written lies the riddle, but its marks are all unknown, And oh! whither is the partner of the hidden secret Hafiz, from the Persian. flown. Let's keep them In desperate hope of understanding us; Riddles and clouds are very lights of speech. Whisper in a loud voice, and even be silent RIDICULOUS. Cartwright. PRINCES can never more make known their wisdom They can give wealth and titles, but no virtue; With all the trim greatness, state, and pow'r, Massinger. Should once the world resolve t'abolish Butler. |