And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.

Britannia Rediviva. Line 208.

Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.

Epistle to Congreve. Line 19.

Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend!
Better to hunt in fields for health unbought
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
The wise for cure on exercise depend;
God never made his work for man to mend.

Line 72.

Epistle to John Dryden of Chesterton. Line 92. Wit will shine

Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.

To the Memory of Mr. Oldham. Line 15

So softly death succeeded life in her,

She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

Eleonora., Line 315.

Since heaven's eternal year is thine.

Elegy on Mrs. Killegrew. Line 15.

O gracious God! how far have we
Profan'd thy heavenly gift of poesy!

Line 56.

Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.1

Line 70.

He was exhal'd; his great Creator drew
His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.2

On the Death of a very young Gentleman.

Three poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd;
The next, in majesty; in both the last.

1 Of manners gentle, of affections mild,

In wit a man, simplicity a child.

POPE: Epitaph on Gay.

2 Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
She sparkl'd, was exhal'd, and went to heaven.

YOUNG: Night Thoughts, night v. line 600

The force of Nature could no further go;
To make a third, she join'd the former two.1

Under Mr. Milton's Picture.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This universal frame began:
From harmony to harmony

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man.

A Song for St. Cecilia's Day. Line 11.

Sweet the pleasure, —

Line 58.

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the

slain.

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted, at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

1 Græcia Mæonidam, jactet sibi Roma Maronem,
Anglia Miltonum jactat utrique parem
(Greece boasts her Homer, Rome can Virgil claim;
England can either match in Milton's fame).

Line 66.

Line 77.

SELVAGGI: Ad Joannem Miltonum.

For pity melts the mind to love.1

Alexander's Feast. Line 96.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying.

If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

Line 97.

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again.

Line 120.

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

Line 154.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

Fool, not to know that love endures no tie,
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.2

Palamon and Arcite. Book ii. Line 758.

For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.

The Cock and the Fox. Line 452.

And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd
For one fair female, lost him half the kind.

Theodore and Honoria. Line 227.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,

The power of beauty I remember yet.

1 See Beaumont and Fletcher, page 198.

Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 1.

2 This proverb Dryden repeats in Amphitryon, act i. sc. 2. See Shakespeare, page 106.

When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!

Cymon and Iphigenia. Line 41.

He trudg'd along unknowing what he sought,
And whistled as he went, for want of thought.

The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes
And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.

Line 84.

Line 107.

Love taught him shame; and shame, with love at strife,
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.

She hugg'd the offender, and forgave the offence:
Sex to the last.1

Line 133.

Line 367.

And raw in fields the rude militia swarms,
Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vast expense,
In peace a charge, in war a weak defence;
Stout once a month they march, a blustering band,
And ever but in times of need at hand.

Of seeming arms to make a short essay,

Line 400.

Then hasten to be drunk, — the business of the day.

Happy who in his verse can gently steer
From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.2

Line 407.

The Art of Poetry. Canto i. Line 75.

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call to-day his own;
He who, secure within, can say,

To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day.

8

Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 65

1 And love the offender, yet detest the offence. POPE: Eloisa to Abelard,

ine 192.

2 Heureux qui, dans ses vers, sait d'une voix légère,
Passer du grave au doux, du plaisant au sévère.

BOILEAU: L'Art Poétique, chant 1or.

Formed by thy converse, happily to steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.

POPE: Essay on Man, epistle iv. line 379.

Serenely full, the epicure would say,

Fate cannot harm me; I have dined to-day.

SYDNEY SMITH: Recipe for Salad.

Not heaven itself upon the past has power;

But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour. Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 71.

I can enjoy her while she 's kind;

But when she dances in the wind,

And shakes the wings and will not stay,

I puff the prostitute away.

And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Arms and the man I sing, who, forced by fate
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate.

Line 81.

Line 87.

Virgil, Eneid. Line 1.

And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care

Turn'd by a gentle fire and roasted rare.1

Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book viii. Baucis and Philemon, Line 97.

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,

As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.

Book xv. The Worship of Esculapius, Line 155.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.2

Persius. Satire v. Line 246.

Look round the habitable world: how few
Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue.

Juvenal. Satire z.

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.

8

Mariage à la Mode. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Thespis, the first professor of our art,

At country wakes sung ballads from a cart.

Prologue to Lee's Sophonisba.

1 Our scanty mutton scrags on Fridays, and rather more savoury, but grudging, portions of the same flesh, rotten-roasted or rare, on the TuesCHARLES LAMB: Christ's Hospital five-and-thirty Years Ago. 2 See Burton, page 191.

days.

8 See Davies, page 176.