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4. Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,

the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the glowing breast!

5. Gather the rose-buds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying,

THOMSON'S Seasons.

And that same flower that blooms to-day,
To-morrow shall be dying.

6. Something of youth I in old age approve ;
But more the marks of age in youth I love.
Who this observes may in his body find
Decrepit age, but never in his mind.



7. Intemperate youth, by sad experience found, Ends in an age imperfect and unsound.


8. Youth is ever apt to judge in haste,

And lose the medium in the wild extreme.


9. Young men soon give and soon forget affronts; Old age is slow in both.


10. Happy the school-boy! did he know his bliss,
"T were ill exchang'd for all the dazzling gems
That gaily sparkle in ambition's eye:

His are the joys of nature, his the smile,
The cherub smile of innocence and health,
Sorrow unknown, or, if a tear be shed,

He wipes it soon.


11. By sports like these are all their cares beguil❜d; The sports of children satisfy the child.


12. The tear down childhood's cheek that flows,
Is like the dew-drop on the rose;
When next the summer breeze comes by,
And waves the bush, the flower is dry.

SCOTT's Rokeby.

13. There still are many rainbows in your sky,
But mine are vanish'd. All, when life is new,
Commence with feelings warm and prospects high,
Bnt Time strips our illusions of their hue.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

14. A lovely being, scarcely form'd or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.


BYRON'S Don Juan.

Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea
And from the mountains where I now respire,
Fain would I waft such blessings upon thee,
As with a sigh I deem'd thou mightst have been to me.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

16. The helpless look of blooming infancy.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

17. Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

18. Oh mirth and innocence! Oh milk and water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!

BYRON'S Beppo.

19. A little curly-headed good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth.


The babe,

BYRON'S Don Juan.

Who, capable of no articulate sound,
Mars all things with his imitative lisp.


21. Thine was the shout! the song! the burst of joy!
Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip resoundeth ;
Thine was the eager spirit nought could cloy,
And the glad heart from which all grief reboundeth.

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22. The young! Oh! what should wandering fancy bring,
In life's first spring-time, but the thoughts of spring?—
World without winter, blooming amaranth bowers,
Garlands of brightness, wreath'd from changeless flowers?
MRS. NORTON's Dream.

23. It lay upon its mother's breast, a thing

Bright as a dew-drop when it first descends,
Or as the plumage of an angel's wing,
Where every tint of rainbow beauty blends.


24. I sported in my tender mother's arms,
I rode a-horseback on my father's knee;
Alike were sorrows, passions and alarms,
And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me.
LONGFELLOW-From the Danish.

25. Oh! what a world of beauty fades away
With the wing'd hours of youth!

26. Our early days!-How often back

We turn on life's bewildering track
To where, o'er hill and valley, plays
The sunlight of our early days!

DAWES' Geraldine.


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Such as will enter at a lady's ear,

And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?

2. I do not think a braver gentleman,

More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more noble, is now alive,
grace this latter age with noble deeds.




3. Could deeds my heart discover, Could valour gain your charms, I'd prove myself a lover

Against a world in arms.

4. A form more active, light and strong,
Ne'er shot the ranks of war along ;
The modest, yet the manly mien,
Might grace the court of maiden

Old Song.




1. Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own road.

2. He could raise scruples dark and nice, And, after, solve 'em in a trice;

As if divinity had catch'd

The itch on purpose to be scratch'd.


BUTLER'S Hudibras.

3. The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd,
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd;

His preaching much, but more his practice wrought
A living sermon of the truths he taught.

4. At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.


GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.

5. Such vast impressions did his sermons make, He always kept his flock awake.

DR. WOLCOT's Peter Pindar.

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6. I venerate the man whose heart is warm,

Whose hands are pure, whose doctrines and whose life
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof·

That he is honest in the sacred cause.

7. Some go to church just for a walk,
Some go there to laugh and talk,
Some go there the time to spend,
Some go there to meet a friend,
Some go to learn the parson's name,
Some go there to wound his fame,
Some go there for speculation,
Some go there for observation,
Some go there to doze and nod,
But few go there to worship God.



1. In mind compos'd, he sucks: thick curling clouds
Of smoke around his reeking temples play.
Joyous he sits, and, impotent of thought,
Puffs away care and sorrow from his heart.

2. Thy quiet spirit lulls the lab'ring brain,


Lures back to thought the flights of vacant mirth ;
Consoles the mourner, soothes the couch of pain,
And breathes contentment round the humble hearth;
While savage warriors, soften'd by thy breath,
Unbind the captive Hate had doom'd to death.

3. Yes, social friend, I love thee well,


In learned doctors' spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.


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