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'T's pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul; I think the Romans call it stoicism.

Cato. Act i. Sc. 4. Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripened beauties of the north.

Ibid. Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex.

Ibid. My voice is still for war. Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death ?

Act ii. Sc. 1. Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, And Scipio's ghost walks unaveng'd amongst us ! Ibid. A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.

Ibid. The woman that deliberates is lost.

Act iv. Sc. 1. Curse all his virtues ! they've undone his country. Sc. 4.

What a pity is it That we can die but once to save our country! Ibid. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.'

Ibid. It must be so, Plato, thou reasonest well! Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? ”T is the divinity that stirs within us; 'T is Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,

1 Give me, kind Heaven, a private station,
A mind serene for contemplation !
Title and profit I resign;
The post of honour shall be mine.
GAY: Fables, Part i. The Vulture, the Sparrow,

and other Birds.

And intimates eternity to man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought !

Cato. Act v. Sc. 1.
I'm weary of conjectures, this must end 'em.
Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me :
This in a moment brings me to an end ;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds. Ibid.
Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man. Act v. Sc. 4.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil discord flow.

Ibid. For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise, Poetic fields encompass me around, And still I seem to tread on classic ground.?

A Letter from Italy. Unbounded courage and compassion join'l, Tempering each other in the victor's mind, Alternately proclaim him good and great, And make the hero and the man complete.

The Campaign. Line 219. And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.8 Line 291.

i Smiling always with a never fading serenity of countenance, and fourishing in an immortal youth. — Isaac BARROW (1630-1677): Duty of Thanksgiving, Works, vol. i. p. 66.

2 Malone states that this was the first time the phrase "classic ground," since so common, was ever used.

3 This line is frequently ascribed to Pope, as it is found in the “ Dunciad," book iii. line 264.

And those that paint them truest praise them most.

The Campaign. Last line. The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim.

Ode.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes

up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

Ibid.
For ever singing as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine.

Ibid. Should the whole frame of Nature round him break, In ruin and confusion hurled, He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world.

Horace. Ode iii. Book üi. In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou ’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.?

Spectator. No. 68. Much may be said on both sides.3

No. 122. The Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye.

No. 444. Round-heads and wooden-shoes are standing jokes.

Prologue to The Drummer.

1 He best can paint them who shall feel them most. - POPE: Eloisa to Abelard, last line.

2 A translation of Martial, xii. 47, who imitated Ovid, Amores iii. 11, 39.

3 Much may be said on both sides. -FIELDING: The Covent Garden Tragedy, act i. sc. 8.

NICHOLAS ROWE. 1673-1718.

As if Misfortune made the throne her seat,
And none could be unhappy but the great."

The Fair Penitent. Prologue. At length the morn and cold indifference came.?

Act i. Sc. 1. Is she not more than painting can express, Or youthful poets fancy when they love ? Act iii. Sc. 1. Is this that haughty gallant, gay Lothario ? Act r. Sc. i.

ISAAC WATTS. 1674-1748.

Whene'er I take my walks abroad,

How many poor I see !
What shall I render to my God

For all his gifts to me ? Divine Songs. Song iv.
A flower, when offered in the bud,
Is no vain sacrifice.

Song rii.
And he that does one fault at first

And lies to hide it, makes it two.8 Song xv.
Let dogs delight to bark and bite,

For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 't is their nature too.

Song xvi.

I None think the great unhappy, but the great. - Young : The Love of Fame, satire 1, line 238.

2 But with the morning cool reflection came. – Scott: Chronicles of the Canongate, chap. iv.

Scott also quotes it in his notes to "The Monastery," chap. iij. note 11; and with “calm” substituted for “cool” in “ The Antiquary," chap. v.; and with “repentance" for “reflection” in “ Rob Roy," chap. xii.

3 See Herbert, page 205.

But, children, you should never let

Such angry passions rise ;
Your little hands were never made

To tear each other's eyes. Divine Songs. Song xvi.
Birds in their little nests agree;

And 't is a shameful sight
When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Song xvii.
How doth the little busy bee

Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower !

Song ca.
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

Ibid.
In books, or work, or healthful play.

Ibid. I have been there, and still would go ; "T is like a little heaven below.

Song xxrui.
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber !

Holy angels guard thy bed !
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Cradle Hymn. 'T is the voice of the sluggard ; I heard him complain, “You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again.”

The Sluggard. Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear My voice ascending high.

Psalm v. From all who dwell below the skies Let the Creator's praise arise ; Let the Redeemer's name be sung Through every land, by every tongue.

Psalm cærii. Fly, like a youthful hart or roe, Over the hills where spices grow.

Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book i. Hymn 79.

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