So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So dies a wave along the shore. Of no distemper, of no blast he died, MRS. BARBAULD. But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long; J. DRYDEN. EASTER. "Christ the Lord is risen to-day," Raise your joys and triumphs high; C. WESLEY. Yes, He is risen who is the First and Last; Who was and is; who liveth and was dead; Beyond the reach of death He now has passed, Of the one glorious Church the glorious Head. He is Risen. Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer; An Easter Carol. H. BONAR. PH. BROOKS. Rise, heart! thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With Him mayst rise That as His death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and much more just. Easter. Spring bursts to-day, G. HERBERT. For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play. An Easter Carol. C. G. ROSSETTI. ECCLESIASTICISM. With crosses, relics, crucifixes, Hudibras, Pt. III. Canto I. S. BUTLER. Till Peter's keys some christened Jove adorn, The Dunciad, Bk. III. A. POPE. Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did. Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON. To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, Moral Essays, Epistle IV. A. POPE. Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON. So shall they build me altars in their zeal, The sail he spreads for Heaven with blast from hell! T. MOORE. In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell. Childe Harold, Canto I. LORD BYRON. When pious frauds and holy shifts Hudibras, Pt. I. Canto III. S. BUTLER. Yes, rather plunge me back in pagan night, T. MOORE. And after hearing what our Church can say, J. DRYDEN. DISCONTENT. Past and to come seem best; things present worst. King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort To sigh, yet feel no pain, SHAKESPEARE. To weep, yet scarce know why; The Blue Stocking. DISTANCE. T. MOORE. Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, T. CAMPBELL. Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice; Frozen by distance. Address to Kilchurn Castle. W. WORDSWORTH. How he fell From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove A summer's day; and with the setting sun Paradise Lost, Bk. I. MILTON. What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. DOUBT. Modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise. Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. Who never doubted, never half believed, Where doubt there truth is--'t is her shadow. Festus: Sc. A Country Town. P. J. BAILEY. Uncertain ways unsafest are, Cooper's Hill. SIR J. DENHAM. But the gods are dead- Ay, Zeus is dead, and all the gods but Doubt, Prometheus: Christ. J. B. O'REILLY. Our doubts are traitors And make us lose the good we oft might win . By fearing to attempt. Measure for Measure, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. But now, I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; Nothing's so hard but search will find it out. Seek and Find. R. HERRICK. Dubious is such a scrupulous good man- He humbly hopes-presumes-it may be so. But there are wanderers o'er Eternity W. COWPER. Whose bark drives on and on, and anchored ne'er shall be. Childe Harold, Canto III. LORD BYRON. The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. DREAM. Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; Fables: The Cock and the Fox. J. DRYDEN. 'Twas but a dream,-let it pass,-let it vanish like so many others! What I thought was a flower is only a weed, and is worth less. Courtship of Miles Standish, Pt. VIII. H. W. LONGFELLOW. One of those passing rainbow dreams, In trance or slumber, round the soul! Lalla Rookh: Fire Worshippers. T. MOORE. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. SHAKESPEARE. And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted dreams, And into glory peep. Ascension Hymn. H. VAUGHAN. When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away, Drift on and on through the enchanted dark T. B. ALDRICH. Dreams are the children of an idle brain. Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. DRESS. Let thy attyre bee comely, but not costly. Euphues, 1579. The soul of this man is his clothes. J. LYLY. All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy: Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. We'll have a swashing and a martial outside. As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. |