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A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.
Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. 4.

SHAKESPEARE.

Call for the robin-red breast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
The White Devil, Act v. Sc. 2.

J. WEBSTER.

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay
With his red stalks upon this sunny day!

Poor Robin.

W. WORDSWORTH.

The swallow twitters about the eaves;
Blithely she sings, and sweet and clear;
Around her climb the woodbine leaves
In a golden atmosphere.

The Swallow.

C. THAXTER.

The stately-sailing swan

Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle,
Protective of his young.

The Seasons: Spring.

BLESSING.

J. THOMSON.

Blessings star forth forever; but a curse
Is like a cloud-it passes.

Festus: Sc. Hades.

P. J. BAILEY.

To heal divisions, to relieve the oppressed,
In virtue rich; in blessing others, blessed.
HOMER. Trans. of POPE.

Odyssey, Bk. VII.

Like birds, whose beauties languish half concealed,
Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes
Expanded, shine with azure, green, and gold;
How blessings brighten as they take their flight!
Night Thoughts, Night II.

DR. E. YOUNG.

In the nine heavens are eight Paradises;
Where is the ninth one? In the human breast.
Only the blessèd dwell in the Paradises,
But blessedness dwells in the human breast.
Oriental Poetry: The Ninth Paradise.

W. R. ALGER.

BLUSH.

Who has not seen that feeling born of flame
Crimson the cheek at mention of a name?
The rapturous touch of some divine surprise
Flash deep suffusion of celestial dyes:

When hands clasped hands, and lips to lips were pressed And the heart's secret was at once confessed? The Microcosm: Man.

A. COLES.

By noting of the lady I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes.
Much Ado About Nothing, Act iv. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
To revel in the roses.

Tamerlane, Act i. Sc. 1.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek,
Young roses kindled into thought.

Evenings in Greece: Evening II. Song.

N. ROWE.

T. MOORE.

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'erspread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

Dione, Act ii. Sc. 3.

J. GAY.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, And flare up bodily, wings and all. Aurora Leigh.

E. B. BROWNING.

The man that blushes is not quite a brute. Night Thoughts, Night VII.

BOATING.

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,

DR. E. YOUNG.

Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,

We'll sing at Saint Ann's our parting hymn;
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near and the daylight's past!
A Canadian Boat Song.

And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time. Bermudas.

T. MOORE.

A. MARVELL.

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note, Soft moves the dipping oar! Oh, Swiftly glides the Bonnie Boat.

J. BAILLIE.

Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Essay on Man, Epistle III.

On the great streams the ships may go
About men's business to and fro.
But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep
On crystal waters ankle-deep:
I, whose diminutive design,
Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine,
Is fashioned on so frail a mould,

A. POPE.

A hand may launch, a hand withhold:
I, rather, with the leaping trout
Wind, among lilies, in and out;
I, the unnamed, inviolate,
Green, rustic rivers navigate.

The Canoe Speaks.

R. L. STEVENSON.

Row us forth! Unfurl thy sail!
What care we for tempest blowing?
Let us kiss the blustering gale!

Let us breast the waters flowing!
Though the North rush cold and loud,
Love shall warm and make us merry;
Though the waves all weave a shroud,
We will dare the Humber ferry!

The Humber Ferry. B. W. PROCTER (Barry Cornwall).

BOOKS.

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good;

Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Personal Talk.

W. WORDSWORTH.

Silent companions of the lonely hour,
Friends, who can alter or forsake,
Who for inconstant roving have no power,
And all neglect, perforce, must calmly take.

To My Books.

Some books are drenched sands,

MRS. C. NORTON.

On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,

Like a wrecked argosy.

A Life Drama.

ALEX. SMITH.

Worthy books

Are not companions-they are solitudes: We lose ourselves in them and all our cares. Festus: Sc. A Village Feast. Evening.

P. J. BAILEY.

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book 's a book, although there 's nothing in 't. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.

LORD BYRON.

Golden volumes! richest treasures,
Objects of delicious pleasures!
You my eyes rejoicing please,
You my hands in rapture seize !
Brilliant wits and musing sages,
Lights who beamed through many ages!
Left to your conscious leaves their story,
And dared to trust you with their glory;
And now their hope of fame achieved,
Dear volumes! you have not deceived!
Curiosities of Literature. Libraries.

I. DISRAELI.

That place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers.

The Elder Brother, Act i. Sc. 2.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

BORROWING.

Who goeth a-borrowing,
Goeth a-sorrowing.

Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. June's Ab

stract.

T. TUSSER.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3.

It is a very good world to live in,

To lend, or to spend, or to give in;

SHAKESPEARE.

But to beg or to borrow, or to get a man's own,
It is the very worst world that ever was known.
Attributed to EARL OF ROCHESTER.

BOY.

O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure! King John, Act iii. Sc. 4.

SHAKESPEARE.

A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.
Don Juan, Canto I.

LORD BYRON.

A little bench of heedless bishops here,
And there a chancellor in embryo.

The Schoolmistress.

W. SHENSTONE.

Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face; These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his : This little abstract doth contain that large Which died in Geffrey and the hand of time Shall draw this brief unto as large a volume. King John, Act ii. Sc. 1.

:

SHAKESPEARE.

O, 't is a parlous boy;
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;
He is all the mother's from the top to toe.

Richard III., Act iii. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy mother.

Love's Cure, Act ii. Sc. 2.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

But strive still to be a man before your mother. Motto of No. III. Connoisseur.

CARE.

W. COWPER.

When one is past, another care we have ;
Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.

Sorrows Succeed.

R. HERRICK.

Old Care has a mortgage on every estate,
And that's what you pay for the wealth that you get.
Gifts of the Gods.

J. G. SAXE.

O polished perturbation! golden care!
That keepest the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night!

K. Henry IV., Pt. II. Act iv. Sc. 5.

Let one unceasing, earnest prayer

SHAKESPEARE.

Be, too, for light,-for strength to bear

Our portion of the weight of care,
That crushes into dumb despair

One half the human race.

The Goblet of Life.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

Let the world slide, let the world go:

A fig for care, and a fig for woe!

If I can't pay, why I can owe,

And death makes equal the high and low.

Be Merry Friends.

J. HEYWOOD.

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