When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST iv. 3.

LOVE may spring in the bosom of a young girl,

like Hesper in the evening sky, a grey speck

in a field of grey, and not be seen or known, till surely as the circle advances the faint planet gathers fire, and, coming nearer earth, dilates, and will and must be seen and known.

GEORGE MEREDITH.

BUT the best is when I glide from out them,
Cross a step or two of dubious twilight,

Come out on the other side, the novel

Silent silver lights and darks undreamt of,
Where I hush and bless myself with silence.

BROWNING.

'Tis a kind of good deed to say well: And yet words are no deeds.

KING HENRY VIII. iii. 2.

R. COLERIDGE has a mind 'reflecting ages like the echo of the congregated roar of the 'dark backward and abysm' of thought. He who has seen a mouldering tower by the side of a crystal lake, hid by the mist, but glittering in the wave below, may conceive the dim, gleaming, uncertain intelligence of his eye: he who has marked the evening clouds uprolled (a world of vapours), has seen the picture of his mind, unearthly, unsubstantial, with gorgeous tints and ever-varying forms

MR. past': his voice is

That which was now a house, even with a thought
The rock dislimns, and makes it indistinct
As water is in water.

HAZLITT.

So 'mid the ice of the far Northern sea
A star about the Arctic circle may

Than ours yield clearer light, yet that but shall
Serve at the frozen pilot's funeral.

HABINGTON.

Masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an

ass.

SIR

MUCH ADO iv. 2.

IR WALTER ELLIOT, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnants of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensation, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt, as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest that never failed.

JANE AUSTEN.

THAT is honour's scorn,

Which challenges itself as honour's born
And is not like the sire: honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb

Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed.

ALL'S WELL ii. 3.

Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST iv. 2.

POESY

DOESY subsisteth by herself, and after one demeanour and continuance her beauty appeareth to all ages. In vain have some men of late, transformers of everything, consulted upon her reformation, and endeavoured to abstract her to metaphysical and scholastic quiddities, denuding her of her own habits, and those ornaments with which she hath amused the world some thousand years. Poesy is not a thing that is yet in the finding and search, or which may be otherwise found out.

DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.

-FAIR Nine, forsaking Poetry;

How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoyed in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move,

The sound is forced, the notes are few!

BLAKE.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

JULIUS CÆSAR iv. 3.

HE race is not to the swift, nor the battle to

THE

the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill: but time and chance happeneth to them all.

ECCLESIASTES.

THERE is a deep nick in Time's restless wheel

For each man's good, when which nick comes,

it strikes ;

As Rhetoric yet works not persuasion,

But only is a mean to make it work:

So no man rises by his real merit

But when it cries clink in his Raiser's spirit.

CHAPMAN.