Слике страница



A TARDINESS in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoken
That it intends to do.

Death he has oft accused
Of tardy execution, since denounced
The day of his offence.




Tardy of aid; unseal the heavy eyes;
Awake, and with the dawning day arise.-Dryden.


FORTH he goes,

Like to a harvest man, that's tasked to mow,
Or all, or lose his hire.


Speak not to me of swarms the scene contains; One heart free tasting nature's breath and bloom Is worth a thousand slaves to Mammon's gains.

But whither goes that wealth, and gladdens whom! See, left but life enough and breathing-room, The hunger and the hope of life to feel,

The feeling heart, simplicity of life,
And elegance, and taste.

Yon pale mechanic bending o'er his loom, And childhood's self as at Ixion's wheel,

From morn till midnight task'd to earn its little meal. Campbell.


GOOD men, like the sea, should still maintain
Their noble taste, in midst of all fresh humours,
That flow about them, to corrupt their streams,
Bearing no season, much less salt of goodness.

Ben Jonson.

Talk as you will of taste, my friend, you'll find
Two of a face, as soon as of a mind.






LIKE some rich and mighty murderer

Too great for prisons, which he breaks with gold: Who fresher for new mischief does appear,

And dares the world to tax him with the old.


What is 't to us, if taxes rise or fall?
Thanks to our fortune, we pay none at all.
Let muckworms who in dirty acres deal,
Lament those hardships which we cannot feel,
His grace who smarts, may bellow if he please,
But must I bellow too, who sit at ease?
By custom safe, the poets' numbers flow,
Free as the light and air some years ago.
No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains
To tax our labours, and excise our brains.
Burthens like these will earthly buildings bear,
No tribute's laid on castles in the air.



THE muse's friend, tea, does our fancy aid,
Repress those vapours which the head invade.


Tea; how I tremble at thy fatal stream!
As Lethe, dreadful to the love of fame.
What devastations on thy banks are seen!
What shades of mighty names which once have been!
A hecatomb of characters supplies
Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice.


I HAVE laboured,

And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my authority,
May go one way.



Imperious, with a teacher's air, Boastful, he claims a right to wisdom's chair.




AY, ay, and she hath offered to the doom
(Which, unreserved, stands in effectual force,)
A sea of melting pearl which some call tears;
Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver shedding tears,
Could penetrate his uncompassionate heart.


I did not think to shed a single tear
In all my miseries; but thou has forced me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.


Home now Thealma wends 'twixt hope and fear,
Sometimes she smiles, anon she drops a tear,
That stole along her cheeks, and falling down,
Into a pearl it freezeth with her frown.



No radiant pearl that crested fortune wears,
No gem that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears,
Not the bright stars that night's blue arch adorn,
Nor rising sun that gilds the vernal morn,
Shine with such lustre as the tear that breaks
For other's woe down virtue's manly cheeks.

And sorrow too finds some relief,
In tears which wait upon our grief.

There may be some too brave to weep

O'er poverty, or care, or wrong,
Within whose manly bosoms sleep



Emotions gentle, warm, and strong;
Which wait the wakening of a tone

Unmarked, unthought of by the crowd,
And seeming unto them alone,

A voice both eloquent and loud;
And then the feelings hid for years,
Burst forth at length in burning tears.


[blocks in formation]

How wisely nature did decree,
With the same eyes to weep and see!
That having viewed thy object vain,
They might be ready to complain,
And since the self-deluding sight
In a false angle takes each height,
These tears, which better measure all,
Like wat'ry lines and plummets fall.
Two tears, which sorrow long did weigh
Within the scales of either eye;
And then paid out in equal poise,
Are the true price of all my joys.
What in the world most fair appears,
Yea, even laughter turns to tears;
And all the jewels which we prize,
Melt in these pendants of the eyes.


Some feelings are to mortals given,
With less of earth in them than heaven:
And if there be a human tear
From passion's dross, refined and clear-
A tear so limpid and so meek,
It would not stain an angel's cheek,
'Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter's head.

For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.



There is a sweet salt in thy kisses, dear!
That dwells upon thy lip, like ocean foam
Dropp'd from the whirling airs: what wandering tear
Hath left the palace of its orbed home;
Straying from crystal over warm carnation,
Unto thy rich mouth's curving almondine,
Where half its due is minister'd to mine
In our fix'd greeting's balmy implication.
Be it the herald of a tempest-shower,
Enclouded in the heaven of thy heart;
Or but a summer drop, which the warm power
Of love doth to the air of sighs impart;
Like a true Bacchant will I drink it up,
Keeping my mad lips glued upon the cup!





O HE's as tedious

As a tired horse, a railing wife,
Worse than a smoky chimney.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls,
For thus friends absent speak: this case controls
The tediousness of my life.


Teach me like thee in various nature wise,
To fall with dignity, with temper rise.


REMEMBER with what mild,

And gracious temper he hath heard, and judged
Without wrath or reviling.



His senseless speech and doted ignorance
When as the noble prince had marked well,
He calmed his wrath with goodly temperance.

[ocr errors]




If thou well observe

The rule of not too much, by temperance taught,
In what thou eat'st and drink'st, seeking from thence
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight.
Till many years over thy head return:

So may'st thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop
Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease
Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd, in death mature.

By winds that temperately blow,
The bark should pass secure and slow.



Make temperance thy companion, so shall health
Sit on thy brow.



« ПретходнаНастави »