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It is fine
To stand upon some lofty mountain thought,
Within the deep,
Still chambers of the heart, a spectre dim,
CONTEMPT - SCORN.
1. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her
Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time,
GEORGE D. PRENTICE.
On all sides, from innumerable tongues,
Infamous wretch !
So much below my scorn, I dare not kill thee!
MILTON'S Paradise Lost.
4. Derision shall strike thee forlorn,
5. Thou may'st from law, but not from scorn escape;
Pardon is for men,
And not for reptiles-we have none for Steno,
BYRON'S Marino Faliero.
And would'st thou turn,
Like one contemn'd, to seek for more contempt!
1. O! who can lead, then, a more happy life,
Than he, that, with clean mind and heart sincere,
3. Still falling out with this and this,
2. The remnant of his days he safely past,
Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too fast;
4. Peace, brother, be not over-exquisite
CONTENTMENT - DISCONTENT.
5. For who did ever yet, by honour, wealth,
Or pleasure of the sense, Contentment find?
6. The lion crav'd the fox's art;
7. Sour discontent, that quarrels with our fate,
SIR R. BLACKMORE.
8. He, fairly looking into life's account,
Saw frowns and favours were of like amount;
9. With careless eyes he views the proud,
10. What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
11. And passing rich, with forty pounds a year. GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.
12. A country-lad is my degree,
And few there are that ken me, O;
13. We heeded not the cold blast, nor the winter's icy air, For we found our climate in the heart, and it was summer there.
J. R. DRAKE.
14. The feeling of sadness and longing,
H. W. LONGFELLOW.
15. O! dear is my cottage, unclouded by sorrow,
16. "Tis said that frail, inconstant man,
1. What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath?
O, he's as tedious
J. T. WATSON.
CONVERSATION - LOQUACITY, &c.
Since brevity's the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes-
4. A flourish! trumpets!-strike alarums-drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail
6. Their copious stories, oftentimes begun, End without audience and are never done.
5. Few words shall fit the trespass best,
7. As 't is a greater mystery, in the art
8. For brevity is very good,
When we are, or are not, understood.
9. But still his tongue ran on, the less
11. But fools, to talking ever prone,
10. I never, with important air,
Are sure to make their follies known.