With dark forgetting of my care's returns ;
And let the day be long enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventur'd youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the troubles of the night's untruth;
Cease, dreams, fond image of my fond desires!
To model forth the passions of to-morrow;
Let never rising sun approve your tears,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.

O MAGIC sleep! O comfortable bird,

DRUMMOND. Sonnet.

That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfined
Restraint! imprison'd liberty! great key
To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,
Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,
Echoing grottoes, full of tumbling waves
And moonlight; ay, to all the mazy world
Of silvery enchantment!-who, unfurl'd
Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour,
But renovates and lives?

KEATS. Endymion, Book I.

THERE in close covert by some brook
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garish eye
While the bee with honey'd thigh,

That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring,
With such concert as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep.

Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain:
Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain:
Into this prince, gently, oh gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers, like a bride.

П Penseroso.

BEAU MONT and FLETCHER. Valentinian.

When to the session of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.

SHAKSPEARE. Sonnets.

It was about the middle age of night
When half the earth stood in the other's light;
And sleep, death's brother, yet a friend to life,
Gave wearied nature a restorative.

BUTLER. Repartee between Cat and Puss.

DRESS.

THE fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
Much Ado About Nothing.

Faust. WHY, assure you, Signior, rich apparel has strange virtues; it makes him that hath it without means esteemed for an excellent wit, he that enjoys it with means, puts the world in remembrance of his means; it helps the deformities of nature,* and gives lustre to her beauties; makes continual holiday where it shines; sets the wits of ladies at work, that otherwise would be idle; furnisheth your two shilling ordinary; takes possession of your stage at your new play; and enricheth your oars, as scorning to go with your skull.

Macr. Pray you, sir, add this; it gives respect to your fools, makes many thieves, as many strumpets, and no fewer bankrupts. BEN JONSON. Every Man Out of His Humour, Act II.

BE a man ne'er so vile

In wit, in judgment, manners or what else;
If he can purchase but a silken cover
He shall not only pass, but pass regarded.

Ibid, Act III.

A GOOD wife is none of our dainty dames, who love to appear in a variety of suits every day new; as if a good gown, like a stratagem in war, were to be used but once.

WHO would not rather get him

gone

FULLER.

Beyond th' intolerablest zone,

Or steer his passage through those seas,
That burn in flames, or those that freeze,

Than see one nation go to school,

And learn of another, like a fool?

To study all its tricks and fashions
With epidemic affectations;

The greatest part of the ladies lose themselves very advantageously

under their dress.

TOM BROWN.

And dare to wear no mode or dress,
But what they, in their wisdom, please;
As monkeys are, by being taught

To put on gloves and stockings, caught;
Submit to all that they devise,

As if it wore their liveries;

Make ready, and dress th' imagination
Not with the clothes, but with the fashion.

*

Sometimes wear hats like pyramids,

And sometimes flat, like pipkins' lids;
With broadbrims sometimes like umbrellas,
And sometimes narrow as Punchinello's.

And as some pupils have been known,
In time to put their tutors down,
So ours are often found t' have got
More tricks than ever they were taught.

Apply to all things which they see

With their own fancies best agree;
No matter how ridiculous,

'Tis all one if it be in use;
For nothing can be bad or good,
But as 'tis in or out of mode.

To learn the dullest of their whims,
And how to wear their very limbs;
To turn and manage every part,
Like puppets, by their rules of art ;
To shrug discreetly, act, and tread,
And politicly shake the head,
Until the ignorant, that guess
At all things by th' appearances,

Some advance

That most people' in France

Join the manners and air of a Maître de Danse,
To the morals-(as Johnson of Chesterfield said)—
Of an elderly Lady, in Babylon bred,

Much addicted to flirting and dressing in red.

Ingoldsby Legends.

K

To see how art and nature strive,
Believe them really alive,

And that they're very men, not things
That move by puppet-work and springs;
When truly all their feats have been,
As well performed by motion-men,
And the worst drolls of Punchinellos

Were much th' ingeniouser fellows.

BUTLER. On our Ridiculous Imitation of the French.

THE person whose clothes are extremely fine, I am too apt to consider as not being possessed of any superiority of fortune, but resembling those Indians, who are found to wear all the gold they have in the world in a bob at the nose.

GOLDSMITH.

IN France the staple of new modes,
Where garbs and miens are current goods,
That serves the ruder northern nations
With methods of address and treat:

Prescribes new garnitures and fashions,
And how to drink and how to eat,*
No out-of-fashion wine or meat;
To understand cravats and plumes,

And the most modish from the old perfumes.

BUTLER. Ode-Memory of Duval.

WHILE her sad eyes the troubled breast disclose;
Whose outward splendour is but folly's dress,
Exposing most when most it gilds distress.

CRABBE. The Village, Book I.

* Further, as man is known by feeding
From brutes-so men from men, in breeding

Are still distinguished as they eat.

And raw in manners, raw in meat;
Look at the polish'd nations hight
The civilised-the most polite

Is that which bears the praise of nations,
For dressing eggs two hundred fashions;
Whereas at savage nations look,-

The less refined the less they cook.

*

For niceness comes from th' inner side,

(As an ox is drest before his hide.)

HOOD. A Receipt for Civilisation.

TASTE IN DRESS.

PERSONS are oftentimes misled in their choice of dress, by attending to the beauty of colours, rather than selecting such colours as may increase their own beauty.

SHENSTONE.

CHARITY.

To return the love of our friends is the charity of publicans, and founded on the bond of utility, but to be well affected towards our enemies is one of the sublimest virtues of the Christian religion and an imitation of the Divinity. But this Charity has several degrees, the first whereof is our forgiving our enemies upon repentance. And there is some resemblance of this charity found among the more generous wild beasts; for 'tis said that the lion will not exercise cruelty upon the creatures that submit and fall before him. The second degree is forgiveness of enemies though they remain stubborn without reconciliation or atonement. The third degree is that which not only pardons and excuses, but even confers benefits and good offices upon enemies. But these degrees either have or may have somewhat of ostentation,* at least somewhat of greatness of mind, and not proceed entirely from pure charity. For possibly when any one feels virtue flow out of him he may be lifted up with it, and be more delighted with the fruit of his own virtue than the good and happiness of his neighbour. But if a man when he finds any misfortune befall his enemy from another quarter be grieved and troubled at it from the bottom of his heart; without secretly rejoicing, as if he thought that his day of retribution and revenge were come, this is the virtue whose opposite Job detests. "If I have rejoiced at the ruin of him that hated me, and triumphed that misfortune has found him out," and this is the exaltation and top perfection of charity.

BACON. Essays.

There is often more pride than goodness in our sorrow for the misfortunes of our enemies; it is to make them feel that we are superior to them that we give them marks of our compassion.

ROCHEFOUCAULD.

The dews came down unseen at evening tide
And silently their bounties shed, to teach
Mankind unostentatious charity.

POLLOK. Course of Time, Book III.