There is no flock, however watched and tended, But has one vacant chair. That golden key That opes the palace of eternity. MILTON-- Comus. Line 13. There's nothing terrible in death; 'Tis but to cast our robes away, And sleep at night withont a breath To break repose till dawn of day. p. MONTGOMERY- In Memory of E. G. How short is human life! the very breath, Which frames my words, accelerates my death. 9. HANNAH MORE— King IIezekiah. Since, howe'er protracted, death will come, Why fondly study, with ingenious pains, To put it off? To breathe a little longer Is to defer our fate, but not to shun it. HANNAH MORE - David and Goliath. And labour's done; D. M. MULOCK - Now and Afterwards. Line 67. She thought our good-night kiss was given, And like a lily her life did close; Angels uncurtain'd that repose, And the next dawn'd in heaven. MASSEY— The Ballad of Babe Christabel. 1. e. Death hath a thousand doors to let out life, I shall find one. f. MASSINGER- A Very Woman. Act V. Sc. 4. S. Stood grim Death now in view. Act IV. Sc. 2. There's nothing certain in man's life but this, That he must lose it. h. OWEN MEREDITH - Clytemnestra. Pt. XX, Before mine eyes in opposition sits Line 803. Behind her Death Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse ! j. MILTON--Paradise Lost. Bk. X. Line 588. W. But death comes not at call: justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. k. MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. X. Line 858. Death betimes is comfort, not Cismay, And who can rightly die needs no delay. v. PETRARCH — To Laura in Deuth. Canzone V. He whom the gods love dies young, while he is in health, has his senses and his judgment sound. PLAUTUS-Bacchid. IV. 7, 18. The funeral song be sung! That ever died so young - PoE-- Leonore. St. 1. A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be. y. POPE— To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 73. 2. Death Line 845. n. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, mourn'd. Lady. Line 51. he died. 6. POPE - Epitaph X. O death, all eloquent! you only prove What dust we doat on, when 'tis man we love. POPE- Eloise to Abelard. Line 355. After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. Macbeth. Act III. Sc. 2. 'A made a finer end and went away, an it had been any christom child; ’a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at the turning o' th' tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with the flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, sir John ? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So 'a cried outGod, God, God! three or four times ; now I, to comfort him, bid him 'n should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. 0. Henry V. Act II. Sc. 3. A man can die but once;-we owe God a death. p. Henry IV. Pt. II. Act III. Sc. 2. And there, at Venice, gave His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, Under whose colours he hail fought so long. 9. · Richard 11. Act IV. Sc. 1. And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, The better cherish'd still the nearer death. Henry IV. Pt. I. Act V. Sc. 2. c. Sleep and death, two twins of winged race, Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace. d. Pope's Homer's Iliad. Bk. XVI. Line 831. Tell me, my soul, can this be death? e. Pope, The Dying Christian to his Soul. Tired, be sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. f. POPE- Essay on Man. Ep. II. Line 282. Death aims with fouler spite At fairer marks. g. QUARLES- Divine Poems. Ed. 1669. Sleep that no pain shall wake, Night that no moon shall break, Till joy shall overtake Her perfect calm. h. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. Dream-Land. St. 4. O stanch thy bootlesse teares, thy weeping is in vain ; I am not lost, for we in heaven shall one day meet again. i. Roxburghe Ballads. The Bride's Buriull. Edited by Chas. Hindley. Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death. He is lost to the forest, When our neel was the sorest. St. 16. Death, death! oh, amiable, lovely death, Come grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st. King John. Act III. Sc. 4. Death ! my lord Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too. y. Henry VIII. Act I. Sc. 3. Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast, SCOTT– Guy Mannering. Ch. XXVII. 84 DEATH. DEATH, 0. In that sleep of death what dreams may come. Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 1. I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood With that sour ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. Richard III. Act I. Sc 4. Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: And yet not so,-for what can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? p. Richard II. Act III. Sc. 2. My sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle; Under whose shade the ramping lion slept; Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spread ing tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 9. Henry VI. Pt. III. Act V. Sc. 2. Nothing can we call our own but death; And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. Richard II. Act III. Sc. 2. 1. e, Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you, The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death. b. Romeo and Juliet, Act V, Sc. 3, Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Cymbeline. Act IV. Sc. 2. Song. Go thou, and fill another room in hell, That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.--Exton, thy fierce hand Hath, with thy king's blood, stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount my soul! thy seat is up on high ; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die, d. Richard II. Act V. Sc. 5. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire ? King John. Act V. Sc. 4. He dies, and makes no sign. 1. Henry VI. Pt. II. Act III. Sc. 3. He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace. g. Henry VIII. Act IV. Sc. 2. Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. h. Othello. Act V. Sc. 2. He that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. i. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 1. He that dies, pays all debts. j. Tempest. Act III. Sc. 2. How oft, when men are at the point of death, Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death. k. Romeo and Juliet. Act V. Sc. 3. If I must die, Measure for Measure. Act III. Sc. 1. m, Thou know'st 'tis common; all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity. Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. First our pleasures die-and then 0. SHELLEY --Death. a. e. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepared, and look not for it. b. Richard III. Act III. Sc. 2. To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howlings !—'tis too horrible! Measure for Measure. Act III. Sc. 1. To die,- to sleep, No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. d. Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 1. We cannot hold mortalitie's strong hand. King John. Act IV. Sc. 2. We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. f. Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3. Hamlet. Act V. Sc. 1. What's yet in this, That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie bid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. i. Measure for Measure. Act III. Sc. 1. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. j. Julius Cæsar. Act. II. Sc. 2. Where art thou death? k. Antony and Cleopatra. Act V. Sc. 2. Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must. I. Henry VI. Pt. III. Act V. Sc. 2. Within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp. Richard II. Act III. Sc. 2. day. u. How wonderful is death, death and his brother, sleep! p. SHELLEY- Queen Mab. Line 1. The lone couch of his everlasting sleep. 9. SHELLEY--Alastor. Line 57. All buildings are but monuments of death, All clothes but winding-sheets for our last knell, All dainty fattings for the worms beneath, All curious music, but our passing bell: Thus death is nobly waited on, for why? All that we have is but death's livery. 1. SHIRLEY – The Passing Bell. The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hands on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, Ulysses. Sc. 3. We count it death to falter, not to die. t. SIMONIDES-Jacobs I. 63, 20, To our graves we walk ALEX. SMITH - Horton. Line 570. Line 326. Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale. BAYARD TAYLOR-- The Picture of St. John. Bk. III. St. 84. He that would die well must always look for death, every day knocking at the gates of the grave; and then the grave shall never prevail against him to do him mischief. JEREMY TAYLOR-- Holy Dying. Ch. II. Pt. I. Death has made His darkness beautiful with thee. y. TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. LXXIII. God's finger touched him and he slept. TENNYSON-- In Memoriam. Pt. LXXXIV. The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn. TENNYSON- Mariana in the South. Last verse. 2. z. m. aa. 86 DEATH. DECAY. m. n. There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The prices for knowledge) taught us how to die. d. TICKELL – On the Death of Addison. Line 81. 0. Death is the crown of life; Were death denyed, poor man would live in vain: Were death denyed, to live would not be life: Were death denyed, ev’n fools would wish to die. 1. Young- Night Thoughts. Night III. Line 523. Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow. Young- Night Thoughts. Night V. Line 1011. was slain ! Line 212. Man makes a death which nature never made. Young-Night Thoughts. Night IV. Line 15. Men drop so fast, 'ere life's mid-stage we tread, Few know so many friends alive, as dead. p. Young-- Home of Fame. Line 97. The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous lite, quite in the verge of heaven. 9. YOUNG- Night Thoughts. Night II. Line 633. The knell, the shroud, the mattock and the grave, The deep damp vault, the darkness and the YOUNG— Night Thoughts. Night IV. Line 10. Who can take Death's portrait true? The tyrant never set YOUNG, Night Thoughts. Night VI. Line 52. worm. For I know that Death is a guest divine, wine. last. 9. WILLIAM WINTER— Orgia. The Song of a Ruined Man. He lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. h. WOLFE- Monody on the Death of Sir John Moore. u. If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be; It never through my mind had pass'd, That time would e'er be o'erWhen I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more. i. WOLFE- The Death of Mary. DECAY. t. BYRON- Giaour. Line 100. Great families of yesterday we show, And lords whose parents were, the Lord knows who. Line 1. Ill fares the land, to bastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fadeA breath can make them, as a breath has madeBut a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd can never be supplied. GOLDSMITH — Deserted Village. Line 51. History fades into fable; fact becomes clouded with doubt and controversy; the inscription moulders from the tablet: the statue falls from the pedestal. Columns, arches, pyramids, what are they but heaps of sand: and their epitaphs, but characters written in the dust? IRVING— The Sketch Book. Westminster Abbey. Her first deceased; she for a little tried To live without him, liked it not, and died. j. WOTTON- On the Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife. A death-bed's a detector of heart. k. YOUNG— Night Thoughts. Night II. Line 641. |