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Now bething the, gentilman,
How Adam dalf, and Eve span."

MS. of the Fifteenth Century (British Museum).
Use three Physicians, -
Still-first Dr. Quiet;
Next Dr. Mery-man,
And Dr. Dyet.?

Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum (edition of 1607).
The King of France went up the hill

With twenty thousand men;
The King of France came down the hill,
And ne'er went up again.

Pigges Corantoe, or Newes from the North.3

From The New England Primer. *

In Adam's fall
We sinned all.

My Book and Heart
Must never part.

Young Obadias,
David, Josias,
All were pious.

Peter denyed
His Lord, and cryed.

i The same proverb existed in German :

So Adam reutte, und Eva span,
Wer war da ein eddelman ?

AGRICOLA: Proverbs, No. 254. 2 See Swift, page 293.

3 A quarto tract printed in London in 1612, p. 3. This is called “Old Tarlton's Song."

4 As early as 1691, Benjamin Harris, of Boston, advertised as in press the second impression of the New England Primer. The oldest copy known to be extant is 1737.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

Xerxes did die,
And so must I.

Zaccheus he
Did climb the tree
Our Lord to see.

Our days begin with trouble here,

Our life is but a span,
And cruel death is always near,

So frail a thing is man.

Now I lay me down to take my sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

His wife, with nine small children and one at the breast, following him to the stake.

Martyrdom of John Rogers. Burned at Smithfield, Feb. 14, 1554.2

And shall Trelawny die?
Here's twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why.8

1 It is said that in the earliest edition of the New England Primer this prayer is given as above, which is copied from the reprint of 1777. In the edition of 1784 it is altered to “Now I lay me down to sleep.” In the edition of 1814 the second line of the prayer reads, “I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep."

2 The true date of his death is Feb. 4, 1555.

3 Robert Stephen Hawker incorporated these lines into “The Song of the Western Men," written by him in 1825. It was praised by Sir Walter Scott and Macaulay under the impression that it was the ancient song. It has been a popular proverb throughout Cornwall ever since the imprisonment by James II, of the seven bishops, - - one of them Sir Jonathan Trelawny.

Mater ait natæ, dic natæ, natam
Ut moneat natæ, plangere filiolam.
The mother to her daughter spake :

“Daughter," said she, "arise!
Thy daughter to her daughter take,
Whose daughter's daughter cries."
A Distich, according to Zwingler, on a Lady of the Dalburg

Family who saw her descendants to the sixth generation. A woman's work, grave sirs, is never done.

Poem spoken by Mr. Eusden at a Cambridge Commencement.1 Count that day lost whose low descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done.?

Author unknown. The gloomy comparisons of a disturbed imagination, the melancholy madness of poetry without the inspiration.

Letters of Junius. Letter viii. To Sir W. Draper. I do not give you to posterity as a pattern to imitate, but as an example to deter. Letter xii. To the Duke of Grafton.

The Americans equally detest the pageantry of a king and the supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop.5 Letter xxxv.

The heart to conceive, the understanding to direct, or the hand to execute.

Letter xxxvii. City Address, and the King's Answer.

1 It was printed for the second time, in London, 1714.

2 In the Preface to Mr. Nichol's work on Autographs, among other albums noticed by him as being in the British Museum is that of David Krieg, with Jacob Bobart's autograph and the verses,

Virtus sua gloria.
“Think that day lost whose descending sun

Views from thy hand no noble action done."
Bobart died about 1726 He was a son of the celebrated botanist of that

The verses are given as an early instance of their use. 8 This is found in Stanisord's “Art of Reading," third edition, p. 27 (Boston, 1803 ).

4 See Burke, page 412.
6 See Choate, page 588.
6 See Clarendon, page 255.

naine.

Private credit is wealth; public honour is security. The feather that adorns the royal bird supports its flight; strip him of his plumage, and you fix him to the earth.

Letters of Junius. Letter xlii. Affuir of the Falkland Islands. 'T is well to be merry and wise,

”T is well to be honest and true;
'Tis well to be off with the old love
Before you are on with the new.
Lines used by Maturin as the motto to Bertram," produced

at Drury Lane, 1816.
Still so gently o’er me stealing,
Mem’ry will bring back the feeling,
Spite of all my grief revealing,
That I love thee, – that I dearly love thee still.

Opera of La Sonnambula.
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why ar' n't they all contented like me?

Opera of La Bayadère.
It is so soon that I am done for,
I wonder what I was begun for.

Epitaph on a child who died at the age of three weeks

(Cheltenham Churchyard).

An Austrian army, awfully array’d,
Boldly by battery besiege Belgrade ;
Cossack commanders cannonading come,
Deal devastation's dire destructive doom ;
Ev'ry endeavour engineers essay,
For fame, for freedom, fight, fierce furious fray.
Gen’rals ’gainst gen’rals grapple, — gracious God!
How honors Heav'n heroic hardihood !
Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill,
Just Jesus, instant innocence instill !
Kinsmen kill kinsmen, kindred kindred kill.
Labour low levels longest, loftiest lines;
Men march 'midst mounds, motes, mountains, murd'rous
mines.

Now noisy, noxious numbers notice nought,
Of outward obstacles o'ercoming ought;
Poor patriots perish, persecution's pest!
Quite quiet Quakers “ Quarter, quarter" quest;
Reason returns, religion, right, redounds,
Suwarrow stop such sanguinary sounds !
Truce to thee, Turkey, terror to thy train !
Unwise, unjust, unmerciful Ukraine !
Vanish vile vengeance, vanish victory vain !
Why wish we warfare? wherefore welcome won
Xerxes, Xantippus, Xavier, Xenophon ?
Yield, ye young Yaghier yeomen, yield your yell!
Zimmerman's, Zoroaster's, Zeno's zeal
Again attract; arts against arms appeal.
All, all ambitious aims, avaunt, away!
Et cætera, et cætera, et cæterā.

Alliteration, or the Siege of Belgrade: a Rondeau.1

But were it to my fancy given
To rate her charms, I'd call them heaven;
For though a mortal made of clay,
Angels must love Ann Hathaway;
She hath a way so to control,
To rapture the imprisoned soul,
And sweetest heaven on earth display,
That to be heaven Ann hath a way;

She hath a way,

Ann Hathaway, -
To be heaven's self Ann hath a way.

Attributed to Shakespeare.2

i These lines having been incorrectly printed in a London publication, we have been favoured by the author with an authentic copy of them. Wheeler's Magazine, vol. i. p. 244. (Winchester, England, 1828 )

2 This poem entire may be found in Rossiter Johnson's “ Famous Single and Fugitive Poems."

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