580 SIN. SIN. OUR compell'd sins Stand more for number than for account.-Shakspere. Our sins, like to our shadows, When our day's in its glory, scarce appear; Nor custom, nor example, nor vast numbers For each particular crime, a strict account will be exacted; and that comfort which The damned pretend, fellows in misery, "Tis fearful building upon any sin; Massinger. The second pulls a third, the third draws more, That to offend we think it no offence. Sin is dark, and loves The dark, still hiding from itself in gloom, Smith. The darkest hell, and the severest woe. Pollok. Thus oft it haps that when within A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, The Scriptures show That God does suffer for the sins of those Scott. Whom He hath made, that are liable to sin; Sin hath broke the world's sweet peace-unstrung Dana. SINCERITY. SINEWY. 581 SINCERITY. BECAUSE I lie here at thy feet, The humble booty of thy conquering eyes, Present the colour it contain'd within, Than have these eyes, these tears, this tongue of mine Bewray'd my heart, and told how much I'm thine. Sincerity's my chief delight, The darling pleasure of my mind; Take her, mortals, she's worth more Daniel. Lady Chadleigh. SINEWY. AND for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yields To sinewy Ajax. The sinewy thread my brain lets fall, Through every part Shakspere. Can tie those parts, and make me one of all. Dryden. The feeling power, which is life's root, Through every living part itself doth shed By sinews, which extend from head to foot, And like a net all o'er the body spread.-Davies. 582 SINGING. SISTER. SINGING. ALAS! I know not what I have to say, Wherewith bestirs he human spirits? Nat. Lee. Is 't not the stream of song that out his bosom springs, And to his heart the world back coiling brings? Goethe. 'Tis not, I know, the chiming of a song, Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, Crabbe. Keats. SISTER. No love is like a sister's love, It knows no frown of jealous fear, No blush of conscious guile; Its wrongs are pardoned through a tear, Fry. More constant than the evening star, Which mildly beams above That diadem-O! dearer far A sister's gentle love. Anon. SKILL. SKULL. SKY. SKILL. THE workman in his stuff his skill doth show, 583 And order them by their own royal will.-Davies. Your whale he can swallow a hogshead for a pill, SKULL. REMOVE yon skull from out the scatter'd heaps; And passion's host, that never brook'd control: SKY. A BREATH thou art, Byron. Subject to all the skyey influences That do this habitation where thou keep'st, Hourly affect. Shakspere. We envy not the warmer clime that lies The skies, the air, the morning's breezy call, Addison. Sir E. Brydges. THEY talk as they are wont, not as I merit; Moved with a frantic man? The same effects Ben Jonson. No might nor greatness in mortality All slander Shakspere. Must still be strangled in its birth; or time Sir W. Davenant. 'Twas Slander filled her mouth with lying words, Was black as death, his legs were faint with haste Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached, And made most hellish meals of good men's names. Pollok. |