Page images



3. Retiring from the populous noise, I seek This unfrequented place to find some ease.

4. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

5. How happy is the lonely vestal's lot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot!

6. Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a reverend hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drinks the crystal well;
Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days,
Prayer all his business-all his pleasure praise.

GRAY'S Elegy.

7. O sacred solitude! divine retreat!

Choice of the prudent! envy of the great!
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade,
We court fair Wisdom, that celestial maid.

POPE'S Eloisa.

8. For solitude, however some may rave,
Seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave-
A sepulchre in which the living lie,
Where all good qualities grow sick and die.

9. Oh solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms,


Than reign in this horrible place!
I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech-
I start at the sound of my own.


COWPER'S Retirement.



10. Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness-
Some boundless contiguity of space,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit
Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick, with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd.

11. Unhappy he, who from the first of joys, Society, cut off, is left alone

Amid this world of death.


To view, alone,

The fairest scenes of land and deep,
With none to listen, and reply

THOMSON'S Seasons.

To thoughts with which my heart beat high,
Were irksome; for, whate'er
In sooth, I love not solitude.

my mood,

13. The lonely spider's thin gray pall Waves slowly, widening o'er the wall.

BYRON'S Bride of Abydos.


BYRON'S Giaour.

15. To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind.

14. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
I love not man the less, but nature more

From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
BYRON'S Childe Harold.

In solitude

Small power the nipt affections have to grow.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

[blocks in formation]

19. Oh, that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

20. They dwelt in calm and silent solitude, Where meaner spirits never dare intrude.


21. There have been holy men who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought and prayer ;

.... And there have been holy men,
Who deem'd it were not well to pass life thus.



1. "Tis a great fault in a chronologer
To turn parasite; an absolute historian
Should be in fear of none; neither should he
Write any thing more than truth for friendship,
Or else for hate.

2. Some write a narrative of wars, and feats
Of heroes little known, and call the rant
An history; describe the man of whom
His own coevals took but little note,

And paint his person, character, and views,
As they had known him from his mother's womb.




And Rome shall owe,

For her memorial, to your learned pen,
More than to all those fading monuments,
Built with the riches of the spoiled world.

4. Historians only things of weight,
Results of persons, or affairs of state,
Briefly, with truth and clearness should relate:
Laconic shortness memory feeds.

[blocks in formation]



There is no terror in your threats,
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle winds,
Which I respect not.

2. His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.


To be honest, as this world goes,
Is to be one pick'd out of ten thousand.

3. Upon his brow shame is asham❜d to sit,

For 't is a throne where honour may be crown'd,
Sole monarch of the universal earth.







[blocks in formation]

5. Lands mortgag'd may return, and more esteem'd; But honesty, once pawn'd, is ne'er redeem'd.

6. Honour's a sacred tie-the law of kings,
The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
That aids and strengthens virtue when it meets her,
And imitates her actions where she is not.

7. Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part,-there all the honour lies. POPE'S Essay on Man.

8. A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod;
An honest man's the noblest work of God.




9. I've scann'd the actions of his daily life
With all the industrious malice of a foe;
And nothing meets mine eyes but deeds of honour.

POPE'S Essay on Man.

Dishonour'd!-he dishonour'd!

I tell thee, Doge, 't is Venice is dishonour'd;
His name shall be her foulest, worst reproach,
For what he suffer'd, not for what he did.

[ocr errors]

BYRON'S Two Foscari.

11. Honour and glory were given to cherish;
Cherish them, then, though all else should decay;
Landmarks be these, that are never to perish,
Stars that will shine on the duskiest day.


From the German.

« EelmineJätka »