620

IN their non-age

SYMPATHY.

SYMPATHY.

A sympathy unusual join'd their loves;
They pair'd like turtles, still together drank,
Together sat, nor quarrell'd for the choice:
Like twining streams both from one fountain fell,
And as they ran still mingled smiles and tears:
But oh, when time had swell'd their currents high,
This boundless world, this ocean, did divide them,
And now for ever they have lost each other.

Nor is crown wisdom any quintessence
Of abstract truth, or art of government,
More than sweet sympathy, or counterpease
Of humours, temper'd happily to please.

Nat. Lee.

Lord Brooke.

Kindness by secret sympathy is tied,
For noble souls in nature are allied.

Dryden.

There's nought in this bad world like sympathy; 'Tis so becoming to the soul and faceSets to soft music the harmonious sigh,

And robes sweet friendship in a Brussels lace.

Oh! ask not, hope not thou too much
Of sympathy below:

Few are the hearts whence one same touch
Bids the same fountain flow:

Few-and by still conflicting powers

Forbidden here to meet

Such ties would make this life of ours
Too fair for ought so fleet.

Yes, Yes! that boon, life's richest treat,
He had, or fancied that he had;

Say 't was but in his own conceit-
The fancy made him glad!

Byron.

Mrs. Hemans.

Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish,
The boon prefigured in his earliest wish,
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,

When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy.

Anon.

TAKING. TALE. TALENT.

TAKING.

621

NAY, take my life and all, pardon not that;
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house: you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live.
Shakspere.

Helen the taker, 't is plain to see,
A taker of ships, a taker of men,
A taker of cities is she.

Blackie, from Eschylus.

TALE.

LIKE a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

For aught that I could read,

Could every hear by tale or history,

Shakspere.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

Shakspere.

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.

Shakspere.
They gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghostly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand
O'er some new-open'd grave, and, (strange to tell,)
Evanishes at crowing of the cock.

TALENT.

'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face,
When discontent sits heavy at my heart.

Hast thou a talent? hide it not,
Nor let it idle be;

Blair.

Addison.

But let occasion e'er be sought

To use it worthily.

Anon.

622

TALKING. TALL. TAMENESS.

TALKING.

TUT, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate,
Talkers are no good doers; be assured

We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

I never, with important air,

In conversation overbear;

My tongue within my lips I rein,

Shakspere.

For who talks much must talk in vain.

But fools, to talking ever prone,

Are sure to make their follies known.

Guy.

TALL.

WINDS rushed abroad

From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high and sturdiest oaks,
Bowed their stiff necks.

Milton.

May they increase so fast, and spread their boughs
As the high fame of their great owner grows!
May he live long enough to see them all
Dark shadows cast, and as his palace tall!-Waller.

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Goldsmith.

TAMENESS.

THOSE that tame wild horses

Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits.-Shakspere.

Praise him, each savage furious beast,

That on his stores do daily feast;

And you, tame slaves of the laborious plough,

Your weary knees to your Creator bow.-Roscommon.

TARDINESS. TASK. TASTE.

623

TARDINESS.

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;

Shakspere.

Milton.

Awake, and with the dawning day arise.-Dryden.

TASK.

FORTH he goes,

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

Shakspere.

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,
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.

TASTE.

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.

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

Pope.

Thomson.

624

TAXATION. TEA. TEACHING.

TAXATION.

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.

Dryden.

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.

Churchill.

TEA.

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!

Waller.

What shades of mighty names which once have been! A hecatomb of characters supplies

Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice.

Young.

TEACHING.

I HAVE laboured,

And with no little study, that my teaching

And the strong course of my authority,

May go one way.

Shakspere.

Imperious, with a teacher's air,

Boastful, he claims a right to wisdom's chair.

Blackmore.