What sweet delight a quiet life affords, I would not change with princes' statelier courts. DRUMMOND. Claudian's Old Man of Verona. HAPPY the man who his whole time does bound From his first rising infancy has known Which both preserv'd his life and gave him birth; The change of seasons is his calendar: The cold and heat, winter and summer shews, Autumn by fruits, and Spring by flow'rs he knows; A neighbouring wood, born with himself, he sees, He's only heard of near Verona's name, And knows it like the Indies but by fame; Does with a like concernment notice take Of the Red Sea and of Benacu's lake. Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys, About the spacious world let others roam, The voyage life is longest made at home. * When, of these truths thy happier knowledge lies, COWLEY. HERRICK. The Country Life.-To his Brother. FRESH fields and woods! the earth's fair face! I ask not why the first believer Did choose to be a country liver, Did pitch by groves and wells his tent, And And wise Creator of each thing. H. VAUGHAN. Indamora. WHOм Heav'n would bless, from pomp it will remove, And make their wealth in privacy and love. DRYDEN. Aurenge-Zebe, Act II. ALCHEMY. ALCHEMY may be compared to the man who told his sons he had left them gold buried somewhere in his vineyard; where they by digging found no gold, but by turning up the mould, about the roots of their vines, procured a plentiful vintage. So the search and endeavours to make gold, have brought many useful inventions, and instructive experiments to light. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. On turning one down with the plough. Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet Wi' speckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blithe to greet The purpling east. * Who thinks of self when gazing on the sky? BACON. BYRON. The Island. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north * Scarce rear'd above the parent earth The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield O clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble field, Unseen, alane. There in thy scanty mantle clad But now the share uptears thy bed WITH little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Thou unassuming common-place Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees, BURNS. WORDSWORTH. And many a fond and idle name A little Cyclops, with one eye, That thought comes next-and instantly The shape will vanish, and behold! * * Sweet Flower! for by that name at last I call thee, and to that cleave fast, That breath'st with me in sun and air, WORDSWORTH. ADVERSITY AND PROSPERITY. THE principal virtue of Prosperity is Temperance, and of Adversity Fortitude, which in morality is allowed the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament, Adversity of the New, which is greater and affords a clearer revelation of God's favour. Yet even in the Old Testament we find David's harp played as many dirges as carols: and the pencil of the Holy Ghost has more fully described the afflictions of Job, than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity has its fears and distastes; Adversity its hopes and comforts.* In embroidery we find it more pleasing to have a lively work upon a solemn ground, than a dark work upon a light ground, whence we may judge of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly virtue is like some perfumes that are most fragrant when burnt or bruised, for Prosperity best discovers Vice,† but Adversity Virtue. * BACON. Essays. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, With pangs And bade to form her infant mind. What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe; By vain prosperity received To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. GRAY. Hymn to Adversity. And blended form, with artful strife, The strength and harmony of life. GRAY. Ode on Vicissitude. * Mr. Bettenham (reader of Gray's Inn) said that virtuous men were like some herbs and spices, that give not out their sweet smell till they be broken or crushed. BACON. Apophthegms. JULIUS CESAR. + It is the bright day that brings forth the adder. A noble heart, like the sun, showeth its greatest countenance in its lowest estate. SIR P. SIDNEY. |