I'll make him yield the crown, Have desperate debentures on your fame; Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England And little would be left you, I'm afraid, down. If all your debts to Greece and Rome were paid. SWIFT. Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Such moderation with thy bounty join The truly brave are soft of hearts and eyes, BYRON. But whosoe'er it was, nature design'd No fire, nor foe, nor fate, nor night, No, there is a necessity in fate That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine; But right before there is no precipice; That liberality is but cast away Those godlike men, to wanting virtue kind, To all their titles. Fear makes men look aside, and so their footing miss. DRYDEN. The brave man seeks not popular applause, can; Force is of brutes, but honour is of man. DRYDEN. Impute your danger to our ignorance; Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most? Hot braves, like thee, may fight, but know not That we our largest bounty may extend well To manage this, the last great stake. DRYDEN. 87 She turn'd-and her mother's gaze brought back Oh, hush the song, and let her tears Holy and pure are the drops that fall When the young bride goes from her father's hall; She goes unto love yet untried and new: GEORGE HERBERT. The amorous bird of night Sung spousal, and bid haste the ev'ning star On his hill-top to light the bridal lamp. MILTON. Your ill-meaning politician lords, MILTON. Yet here and there we grant a gentle bride, Whose temper betters by the father's side; Unlike the rest that double human care, Fond to relieve, or resolute to share. PARNELL. Now hats fly off, and youths carouse, Elusive of the bridal day, she gives РОРЕ. They, vain expectants of the bridal hour, РОРЕ. Nay, we must think men are not gods; SWIFT. SHAKSPEARE. SWIFT. The incessant care and labour of his mind CAROL. For which the shepherds at their festivals Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays. MILTON. They gladly thither haste; and by a choir Of squadron'd angels hear his carol sung. MILTON, No night is now with hymn or carol blest. SHAKSPEARE. CAROUSING. Our cheerful guests carouse the sparkling tears Waste in wild riot what your land allows, POPE. Learn with how little life may be preserved: In gold and myrrh they need not to carouse. SIR W. RALeigh. Now my sick fool, Roderigo, Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle deep. SHAKSPEARE. Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in, He calls for wine: A health, quoth he, as if So thin, that life looks through and will break out. He'd been aboard carousing to his mates. SHAKSPEARE. Please you, we may contrive this afternoon, And quaff carouses to our mistress' health. SHAKSPEARE. Stiff opposition, and perplex'd debate, YOUNG. Under the shadow of friendly boughs They sit carousing, where their liquor grows. WALLER. |