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CALUMNY - DETRACTION - ENVY - SLANDER, &c.
7. So a wild Tartar, when he spies
A man that's valiant, handsome, wise,
8. Envy's a sharper spur than pay,
9. Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise, For envy is a kind of praise.
10. Who praises Lesbia's eyes and features,
11. Canst thou discern another's mind?
13. Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue;
But, like a shadow, proves the substance true.
14. Base envy withers at another's joy,
15. With that malignant envy, which grows pale
CALUMNY - DETRACTION - ENVY-SLANDER, &c.
17. Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardon'd all, except her face.
16. For every thing contains within itself
The seeds and sources of its own corruption;
But Envy, of all evil things the worst,
BYRON'S Don Juan.
Curse the tongue
Whence slanderous rumour, like the adder's drop,
The ignoble mind
20. As a base pack of yelping hounds,
Will bruise and mangle and destroy;
W. G. SIMMS.
J. T. WATSON.
CANDOUR. (See ARTIFICE.)
CARE-MELANCHOLY - GLOOM.
1. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire, cut in alabaster?
2. Care that is enter'd once into the breast, Will have the whole possession, ere it rest.
That spoils the dance of youthful blood,
4. The spleen with sudden vapour clouds the brain,
5. But human bodies are sic fools,
6. If thou wilt think of moments gone,
7. Go, you may call it madness-folly—
From the Spanish - BowRING.
Sits on me as a cloud along the sky,
9. And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep; and if I weep, "T is that our nature cannot always bring
Itself to apathy, which we must steep
Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep.
10. But can the noble mind for ever brood,
BYRON'S Don Juan
11. T was thus in Nature's bloom and solitude,
12. Come, rouse thee, dearest: 't is not well
Thus darkly o'er the cares that swell
As brooks and torrents, rivers, all
CARE - MELANCHOLY - GLOOM.
13. Blame not, if oft, in melancholy mood,
This theme too far such fancy hath pursued;
14. Oh! it is hard to put the heart Alone and desolate away
To curl the lip in pride, and part
15. Strange that the love-lorn heart will beat With rapture wide amid its folly ;—
No grief so soft, no pain so sweet
As love's delicious melancholy.
N. P. WILLIS.
MRS. A. B. WELBY. 16. O! dark is the gloom o'er my young spirit stealing! Then why should I linger when others are gay?— The smile that I wear, is but worn for concealing A heart, that is wasting in sadness away.
MRS. A. B. WELBY.
18. How vain a task, to wake my lyre
17. Alas, for my weary and care-haunted bosom!
The fresh-swelling fountain-their magic is o'er!
19. Pale Care now sits enthron'd upon that cheek, Where rosy Health did erst her empire hold.
J. T. WATSON.