Ripe age bade him surrender late

His life and long good fortune unto final fate. FAIRFAX.

How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,

A youth of labour with an age of ease!
GOLDSMITH: Deserted Village.

Alike all ages.
Dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful

maze;

And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
GOLDSMITH: Traveller.

An age that melts in unperceived decay,
And glides in modest innocence away.

DR. S. JOHNSON: Vanity of Human Wishes.
In life's last scene what prodigies surprise,
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!
From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage
flow,

And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show.

DR. S. JOHNSON: Vanity of Human Wishes. Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage.

DR. S. JOHNSON: Vanity of Human Wishes. The still returning tale, and lingering jest, Perplex the fawning niece, and pamper'd guest, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring

sneer,

And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear.

DR. S. JOHNSON: Vanity of Human Wishes.

Thou must outlive

Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change

To wither'd, weak, and grey.

MILTON.

He now, observant of the parting ray, Eyes the calm sunset of thy various day. Po

Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chased old age away, Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce?

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? POPE.

Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows;
The god, in this decrepit form array'd,
The gardens enter'd, and the fruits survey'd.
POPE.

She still renews the ancient scene;
Forgets the forty years between;
Awkwardly gay and oddly merry;
Her scarf pale pink, her head-knot cherry.
PRIOR.
And on this forehead (where your verse has said
The loves delighted, and the graces play'd)
Insulting age will trace his cruel way,
And leave sad marks of his destructive sway.
PRIOR.

PRIOR.

SHAKSPEARE

Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory.
SHAKSPEARE.

Nature, as it grows again tow'rds earth,
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.
SHAKSPEARE.

'Tis our first intent

To shake all cares and business from our age, While we unburthen'd crawl tow'rd death. SHAKSPEARE.

What should we speak of

When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December.

SHAKSPEARE.

Youth no less becomes

The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness.

SHAKSPEARE.

How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane. SHAKSPEARE.

Would some part of my young years
Might but redeem the passage of your age!
SHAKSPEARE.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.

SHAKSPEARE.

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of

teen.

SHAKSPEARE.

At your age

The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment.

SHAKSPEARE.

Let's take the instant by the forward top: For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals, ere we can effect them.

SHAKSPEARE.

An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him a little earth for charity.

SHAKSPEARE.

That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
SHAKSPEARE.

Let not old age disgrace my high desire,

O heavenly soul, in human shape contain'd!
Old wood inflamed doth yield the bravest fire,
When younger doth in smoke his virtue spend.
SIR P. SIDNEY.
From pert to stupid sinks supinely down,
In youth a coxcomb, and in age a clown.
SPECTATOR.

Dotard, said he, let be thy deep advise,
Seems that through many years thy wits thee

fail,

And that weak eld hath left thee nothing wise, Else never should thy judgment be so frail.

SPENSER: Faerie Queene.

THOMSON: Seasons.

The tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages

That love of life increased with years,
So much that in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

MRS. THRALE: Three Warnings.

The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home.

But an old age serene and bright And lovely as a Lapland night Shall lead thee to thy grave.

WALLER.

WORDSWORTH.

Tis greatly wise to know before we're told, The melancholy news that we grow old.

YOUNG.

Like our shadows,

Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines. YOUNG: Night Thoughts.

AGONY.

Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, deprived
Thy presence; agony of love! till now
Not felt, nor shall be twice.

MILTON.

Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, To smart and agonize at every pore.

POPE.

Dost thou behold my poor distracted heart
Thus rent with agonizing love and rage,
And ask me, what it means? Art thou not false?
ROWE: Jane Shore.
Betwixt them both they have done me to dy
Through wounds, and strokes, and stubborn
handeling,

That death were better than such agony
As grief and fury unto me did bring.
SPENSER: Faerie Queene.

AGRICULTURE.

Retreat betimes

To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field,
Where the great Cato toil'd with his own hands.
ADDISON.

The glebe untill'd might plenteous crops have borne ;

Rich fruits and flow'rs, without the gardener's pains,

Might ev'ry hill have crown'd, have honour'd all the plains.

SIR R. BLACKMORE.

Through all the soil a genial ferment spreads, Regenerates the plants, and new adorns the

meads.

SIR R. BLACKMORE.

A race

Of proud-lined loiterers, that never sow,
Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a plough.
CHAPMAN.