He would not, with a peremptory tone,
Assert the nose upon his face his own.

Conversation. Line 121.

A moral, sensible, and well-bred man
Will not affront me, and no other can.

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys,
Unfriendly to society's chief joys:

Thy worst effect is banishing for hours
The sex whose presence civilizes ours.

Line 193.

Line 251.

I cannot talk with civet in the room,
A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume.
The solemn fop; significant and budge;
A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge.1
His wit invites you by his looks to come,
But when you knock, it never is at home."
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Line 283.

Line 299.

Line 303.

8

Line 357

Line 443.

That good diffused may more abundant grow.
A business with an income at its heels
Furnishes always oil for its own wheels.

Absence of occupation is not rest,

Retirement. Line 614.

A mind quite vacant is a mind distress'd.

Line 623.

An idler is a watch that wants both hands,
As useless if it goes as if it stands.

Line 681.

Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn.

Line 688.

1 See Pope, page 331.

2 See Pope, page 336.

See Butler, page 213.

The story of a lamp which was supposed to have burned about fifteen hundred years in the sepulchre of Tullia, the daughter of Cicero, is told by Pancirollus and others.

Philologists, who chase

A panting syllable through time and space,
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark
To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark.

Retirement. Line 691.

I praise the Frenchman,1 his remark was shrewd, -
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude!
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.

A kick that scarce would move a horse
May kill a sound divine.

I am monarch of all I survey,

Line 739.

The Yearly Distress.

My right there is none to dispute.

Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk.

O Solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?

Ibid.

But the sound of the church-going bell

These valleys and rocks never heard;
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appear'd.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!

Compared with the speed of its flight
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light.

There goes the parson, O illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.

Ibid.

Ibid.

On observing some Names of Little Note.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast;

The breath of heaven must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.

Human Frailty.

And the tear that is wiped with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

1 La Bruyère.

The Rose.

'Tis Providence alone secures

In every change both mine and yours.

I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau
If birds confabulate or no.

Misses! the tale that I relate

A Fable. Moral.

Pairing Time Anticipated.

This lesson seems to carry,
Choose not alone a proper mate,

But proper time to marry.

That though on pleasure she was bent,

She had a frugal mind.

A hat not much the worse for wear.

Ibid.

History of John Gilpin.

Ibid.

Now let us sing, Long live the king!

And Gilpin, Long live he!

And when he next doth ride abroad,

May I be there to see!

The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.

Ibid.

To an Afflicted Protestant Lady..

United yet divided, twain at once:

So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne.1

The Task. Book i. The Sofa. Line 77.

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore

The tone of languid nature.

Line 181.

The earth was made so various, that the mind
Of desultory man, studious of change
And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.

Line 506

Doing good,

Disinterested good, is not our trade.

Line 673.

God made the country, and man made the town."

Line 749

1 BUCKINGHAM: The Rehearsal (the two Kings of Brentford).

2 See Bacon, page 167.

Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,1
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,

Might never reach me more.

The Task. Book it. The Timepiece, Line L

Mountains interposed

Make enemies of nations who had else,
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.

I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.

Line 17.

Line 29.

Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free!
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.' Line 40.

Fast-anchor'd isle.

England, with all thy faults I love thee still,

My country!

8

Presume to lay their hand upon the ark

Of her magnificent and awful cause.

Line 151.

Line 206.

Line 231.

1 Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging-place of wayfaring men!— Jeremiah ix. 2.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place! - BYRON: Childe Harold,

canto iv. stanza 177.

2 Servi peregrini, ut primum Galliæ fines penetraverint eodem momento liberi sunt (Foreign slaves, as soon as they come within the limits of Gaul, that moment they are free). - BODINUS: Liber i. c. 5.

Lord Campbell ("Lives of the Chief Justices," vol. ii. p. 418) says that "Lord Mansfield first established the grand doctrine that the air of England is too pure to be breathed by a slave." The words attributed to Lord Mansfield, however, are not found in his judgment. They are in Hargrave's argument, May 14, 1772, where he speaks of England as "a soil whose air is deemed too pure for slaves to breathe in."-LOFFT: Reports, p. 2.

See Churchill, page 413.

Praise enough

To fill the ambition of a private man,

That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.
The Task. Book ii. The Timepiece, Line 235.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains

Which only poets know.1

Transforms old print

To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes
Of gallery critics by a thousand arts.

Reading what they never wrote,
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene.

Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not.

Variety 's the very spice of life."

She that asks

Her dear five hundred friends.

His head,

Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,

Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss

Of Paradise that has survived the fall!

Line 285.

Line 363.

Line 411.

Line 444.

Line 606.

Line 642.

Line 702.

Book iii. The Garden. Line 41.

Great contest follows, and much learned dust.

Line 161.

From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into empty wells,
And growing old in drawing nothing up.

1 See Dryden, page 277.

? No pleasure endures unseasoned by variety. - PUB. SYRUS: Maxim 406. 3 He has spent all his life in letting down buckets into empty wells; and he is frittering away his age in trying to draw them up again. — Lady Hol land's Memoir of Sydney Smith, vol. i. p. 259.