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How various his employments whom the world
Calls idle, and who justly in return
Esteems that busy world an idler too!

The Task. Book iii. The Garden, Line 352.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too. Line 566.
I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance once again.
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 34. Which not even critics criticise.

Line 51. What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns ? And Katerfelto, with his hair on end At his own wonders, wondering for his bread. ”T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world, to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd. While fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!? With spots quadrangular of diamond form, Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, And spades, the emblems of untimely graves. In indolent vacuity of thought. It seems the part of wisdom. All learned, and all drunk!

Line 55.

Line 86.

Line 118.

Line 120

Line 217.

Line 297.

Line 336.

Line 478

1 See Bishop Berkeley, page 312.
2 See Thomson, page 356.

Line 514.

The Frenchman's darling.?

Silently

Gloriously drunk, obey the important call.

The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening, Line 510.

Those golden times
And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings,
And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose.

Line 765.
Some must be great. Great offices will have
Great talents. And God gives to every man
The virtue, temper, understanding, taste,
That lifts him into life, and lets him fall
Just in the niche he was ordain’d to fill.

Line 788 as a dream the fabric rose, To sound of hammer or of saw was there.?

Book v. The Winter Morning Walk. Line 144 But war 's a game which were their subjects wise Kings would not play at.

Line 187. The beggarly last doit.

Line 316. s dreadful as the Manichean god, Adored through fear, strong only to destroy. Line 444 He is the freeman whom the truth makes free. Line 733.

With filial confidence inspired, Ca n lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say, My Father made them all! Line 745. Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.

Line 906. There is in souls a sympathy with sounds; And

as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased

ilt

was Cowper who gave this now common name to the mignonette.

? No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung ;
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.

HEBER: Palestine, that there was neither bammer nor axe, nor any tool of iron heard house while it was in building. — 1 Kings vi. 7.

So in the

With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave;
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
How soft the music of those village bells
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet!

The Task. Book ri. Winter Walk at Noon. Line 1

Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head, And Learning wiser grow without his books. Line 86 Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much; Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. Books are not seldom talismans and spells. Line 96. Some to the fascination of a name Surrender judgment hoodwink'd.

Line 101. I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.

Line 560. An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.

Epistle to Joseph Hill. Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre, he that runs may read."

Tirocinium. Line 79.
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd !

How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.

Walking with God.
And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint

upon

his knees. Exhortation to Prayer.

1 Write the vision, and make it plain, upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. - Habakkuk ii. 2.

He that runs may read. — Tennyson: The Flower.

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides

upon
the storm.

Light shining out of Darkness.
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a shining face.

Ibid.

And
His

sense

Beware of desperate steps ! The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away.

The Needless Alarm. Moral.
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.

On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture. The son of parents pass'd into the skies.

Ibid. The man that hails

you

Tom or Jack,
proves, by thumping on your back,

of
Is such a friend that one had need

your great merit,
Be very much his friend indeed
To pardon or to bear it.

On Friendship
A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.

Stanzas subjoined to a Bill of Mortality.
Toll for the brave !

The brave that are no more !
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore !

On the Loss of the Royal George
There is a bird who by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow.

The Jackdaw. (Translation from Vincent Bourne.

1 See Young, page 312.
3 Var. How he esteems your merit.

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He sees that this great roundabout
The world, with all its motley rout,

Church, army, physic, law,
Its customs and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,
And
says
what says he?

Caw.
The Jackdaw. (Translation from Vincent Bourne.)
For 't is a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it come to light,
In every cranny but the right.

The Retired Cat.
He that holds fast the golden mean,"
And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.

Translation of Horace. Book ii. Ode Is
But strive still to be a man before your mother.?

Connoisseur. Motto of No. iii.

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Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd steam ! afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
The flying chariot through the field of air.

The Botanic Garden. Part i. Canto i. Line 289.
No radiant pearl which crested Fortune wears,
No gein that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,
Not the bright stars which Night's blue arch adorn,
Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn,
Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows
Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' woes.

Part ü. Canto ii. Line 459

1 Keep the golden mean. – PUBLIUS SYRUS: Maxim 1072.
2 See Beaumont and Fletcher, page 199.

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