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The warrior's name,

Tho' peal'd and chim'd on all the tongues of fame,
Sounds less harmonious to the grateful mind,
Than his, who fashions and improves mankind.

BARLOW'S Columbiad.


Some grief shows much of love,
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

2. Thy heart is big! get thee apart and weep.
Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Begin to water.


3. I did not think to shed a single tear

In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

4. I am a fool, to weep at what I'm glad of. 5. Nor can the bravest mortal blame the tear Which glitters on the bier of fallen worth.





6. Hide not thy tears; weep boldly—and be proud
To give the flowing virtue manly way:

'Tis nature's mark to know an honest heart by.
Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt
In soft adoption of another's sorrow!



Sorrow, that streams not o'er,
Spares but the eye, to wound the heart the more;
Dumb, infelt pangs, too well supply the woe
That grief, in suffering silence, shuns to show.


8. There is a kind of mournful eloquence

In thy dumb grief, that shames all clamorous sorrow.

9. Behold the turtle who has lost her mate;
Awhile with drooping wings she mourns his fate;
But time the rueful image wears away,

Again she's cheer'd, again she seeks the day.

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10. No radiant pearl, which crested fortune wears,
No gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears,
Not the bright stars, which night's blue arch adorn,
Nor rising sun, that gilds the vernal morn―
Shine with such lustre as the tear, that flows
Down virtue's manly cheek, for others' woes.

GAY'S Dione.

DR. DARWIN. 11. The short, thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall.


12. In all the silent manliness of grief. GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.

13. Tears yet are ours whene'er misfortunes press,
And, tho' our weeping fails to give redress,
Long as their fruits the changing seasons bring,
Those bitter drops will flow from sorrow's spring.
R. BLAND'S Philemon.

14. Sighs, tho' in vain, may tell the world we feel, And tears may soothe the wounds they cannot heal. R. T. PAINE.

15. Nor shame, nor apathy, nor pride, Might then forbid the briny tide; Uncheck'd it trickles down the cheeks: "Tis the still tear that transport speaks.

MRS. HOLFORD'S Margaret of Anjou. 16. "T is said at times the sullen tear would start, But pride congeal'd the drop within his eye.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.



17. Each has his pang, but feeble sufferers groan With brain-born dreams of evil all their own. BYRON'S Childe Harold.

18. So madly shrill, so piercing wild.

19. Howe'er our stifled tears we banish,
When struggling as they rise to start,
We check those waters of the heart,
They are not dried-those tears unshed,—
But flow back to the fountain head,
And, resting in their spring more pure,
For ever in its depths endure,
Unseen, unwept, but uncongeal'd,
And cherish'd most when least reveal'd.

BYRON'S Parisina.

21. The wither'd frame, the ruin'd mind,
The wreck by passion left behind,
A shrivell'd scroll, a scatter'd leaf,
Scar'd by the autumn blast of grief.

BYRON'S Parisina.

20. Not one sigh shall tell my story,
Not one tear my cheek shall stain;
Silent grief shall be my glory-

Grief, that stoops not to complain!


23. Oh! too convincing-dangerously dear,

BYRON'S Giaour.

22. Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death ne'er heeds nor hears distress;
Will this unteach us to complain,

Or make one mourner weep the less?

In woman's eye, the unanswerable tear!
That weapon of her weakness, which can wield
To save-subdue-at once her spear and shield.


BYRON'S Corsair.

24. There is no darkness like the cloud of mind
On grief's vain eye-the blindest of the blind,
Which may not, dare not see, but turns aside
To blackest shade, nor will endure guide.

25. Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye,

As if its lid were charg'd with unshed tears.


26. For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

BYRON'S Corsair.

The heavy sigh,

The tear in the half-open'd eye,

The pallid cheek and brow, confess'd
That grief was busy in his breast.

BYRON'S Dream.

27. The rose is faire when 't is budding new,

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears:
The flower is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
SCOTT's Lady of the Lake.

30. He hung his head-each nobler aim,

29. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser-care;
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear!


SCOTT'S Rokeby.


And hope, and feeling, which had slept
From boyhood's hour, that instant came

Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept !
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!

In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense

Of guiltless joy that guilt may know!
MOORE'S Lalla Rookh.




Tears-floods of tears

Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills,
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost,
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost.
MOORE'S Lalla Rookh.

32. The blight of hope and happiness
Is felt when fond ones part,
And the bitter tear that follows, is
The life-blood of the heart.

33. When all that in absence we dread Is past, and forgotten's our pain,


How sweet is the tear we at such moments shed,
When we see the sweet object again!



1. Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our wo.
MILTON'S Paradise Lost.

2. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

3. It is great sin to swear unto a sin, But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.



4. Guiltiness would speak, tho' tongues were out of use.


Serpents, though they feed

On sweetest flowers, yet do poisons breed.



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