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Was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

The Ring and the Book. Pompilia. Line 357.

The curious crime, the fine Felicity and flower of wickedness.

Ibid. The Pope. Line 590. Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.

Line 1073 Why comes temptation, but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph ?

Line 1185.
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good
Compensate bad in man, absolve him so :
Life's business being just the terrible choice. Line 1236.

It is the glory and good of Art
That Art remains the one way possible
Of speaking truth, - to mouths like mine, at least.

Tbid. The Book and the Ring. Line 842.
Thy' rare gold ring of verse (the poet praised)
Linking our England to his Italy.

Line 873. But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past ?

Balaustion's Adventure. Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed, As, God be thanked! I do not.

The Inn Album. iv.
Have you found your life distasteful?

My life did, and does, smack sweet.
Was your youth of pleasure wasteful ?

Mine I saved and hold complete.
Do your joys with age diminish ?

When mine fail me, I'll complain.
Must in death your daylight finish?
My sun sets to rise again.

At the Nermard." Stanza 10.

1 Mrs. Browning

" With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart”i

once more ! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!

House. 2. God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.

Cenciaja.

CHARLES DICKENS. 1812–1870. A demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body!

Nicholas Nickleby. Chap. xxxiv. My life is one demd horrid grind.

Chap. Iric. In a Pickwickian sense.

Pickwick Papers. Chap. i.
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,

That creepeth o'er ruins old !
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,

In his cell so lone and cold.
Creeping where no life is seen,

A rare old plant is the ivy green. Chap. ri. He's tough, ma'am, - tough is J. B.; tough and devilish sly.

Dombey and Son. Chap. xii. When found, make a note of.

Chap. xv. The bearings of this observation lays in the application on it.

Chap. xxiii. Barkis is willin'.

David Copperfield. Chap. v. Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, all very good words for the lips, - especially prunes and prism.

Little Dorrit. Book ii. Chup. o. Whatever was required to be done, the Circumlocution Office was beforehand with all the public departments in the art of perceiving how NOT TO DO IT.

Chap. t. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.

Christmas Carol. Stave 2.

i See Wordsworth, page 485.

2 See Herbert, page 206.

CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH. 1813–

Thought is deeper than all speech,

Feeling deeper than all thought;
Souls to souls can never teach

What unto themselves was taught.
We are spirits clad in veils;

Man by man was never seen;
All our deep communing fails

To remove the shadowy screen.

Stanzas.

Ibid.

F. W. FABER. 1814-1863.
For right is right, since God is God,

And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.

The Right must win.
Labour itself is but a sorrowful song,
The protest of the weak against the strong.

The Sorrowful World.

CHARLES MACKAY. 1814-Cleon hath a million acres, ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace, — in a cottage I. Cleon and I.

But the sunshine aye shall light the sky,

As round and round we run;
And the truth shall ever come uppermost,

And justice shall be done. Eternal Justice. Stanza 4.
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen;
Aid it, hopes of honest men !

Clear the Way.
Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam,
Where the shrill winds whistle free. Some love to roam.
There's a good time coming, boys!
A good time coming.

The Good Time coming.

1 See Crabbe, page 444.

654

MACKAY. - HOOPER. – BAILEY. - COOK.

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when earth was young.

Tubal Cain.

ELLEN STURGIS HOOPER. 1816-1841.

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie ?
Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly;
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A truth and noonday light to thee. Life a Duty.

PHILIP JAMES BAILEY. 1816

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Life's but a means unto an end; that end
Beginning, mean, and end to all things, — God.

Festus. Scene, A Country Town.
Poets are all who love, who feel great truths,
And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.

Scene, Another and a Better World. America! half-brother of the world! With something good and bad of every land.

Scene, The Surface.

ELIZA COOK. 1817-

I love it, I love it, and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair ?

The Old Arm-Chair.
How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When memory plays an old tune on the heart! Old Dobbin.

NATHANIEL P. WILLIS. 1817-1867.

At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.

Necessity for a Promenade Drive.
For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart,

And makes his pulses fly,
To catch the thrill of a happy voice
And the light of a pleasant eye.

Saturday Afternoon.
It is the month of June,

The month of leaves and roses,
When pleasant sights salute the eyes,
And pleasant scents the noses.

The Month of June.
Let us weep in our darkness, but weep not for him!
Not for him who, departing, leaves millions in tears !
Not for him who has died full of honor and years !
Not for him who ascended Fame's ladder so high
From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky.

The Death of Harrison.

WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 1817–.

I laugh, for hope hath happy place with me;
If my bark sinks, 't is to another sea.

A Poet's Hope.
I sing New England, as she lights her fire
In every Prairie's midst; and where the bright
Enchanting stars shine pure through Southern night,
She still is there, the guardian on the tower,
To open for the world a purer hour.

New England.
Most joyful let the Poet be;
It is through him that all men see.

The Poet of the Old and New Times.

1 See Haliburton, page 580.

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