Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious
figure?
Shaks. Hamlet.
Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
That when the brains were out, the man would
die,

And there an end: but now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: this is more strange
Than such a murder is.

The marshal and myself had cast
To stop him as he outward past;
But lighter than the whirl-wind's blast,
He vanish'd from our eyes,

Like sunbeam on the billow cast,
That glances but, and dies.

Scott's Marmion.

O speak, if voice thou hast!
Tell me what sacrifice can soothe your spirits;
Can still the unquiet sleepers of the grave:
For this most horrid visitation is
Beyond endurance of the noblest mind,
In flesh and blood enrob'd.

Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. Part II.

A horrid spectre rises to my sight,
Close by my side, and plain, and palpable,
In all good seeming and close circumstance,
As man meets man.

Joanna Baillie's Ethwald. Part II.
What form is that-

Why have they laid him there?
Plain in the gloomy depth he lies before me:
The cold blue wound whence blood hath ceas'd to

Thomson's Sophonisba

you did;

And with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd
As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
Shaks. Hamlet.

They are the noblest benefits, and sink
Deepest in man; of which when he doth think,
The memory delights him more, from whom,
Than what he hath receiv'd.

Jonson's Underwood.

The secret enemy whose sleepless eye
Stands sentinel, avenger, judge and spy,
The foc, the fool, the jealous and the vain,
The envious who but breathe in others' pain,
Behold the host! delighting to deprave,
Who track the steps of glory to the grave.

Byron.

Our glories float between the earth and heaven
Like clouds that seem pavilions of the sun,
And are the playthings of the casual wind.
Bulwer's Richelieu.

Before I knew thee, Mary,

Ambition was my angel. I did hear
For ever its witch'd voices in mine ear;

My days were visionary

My nights were like the slumbers of the mad-
And every dream swept o'er me glory-clad.
Willis's Poems.

Would I were in some lonely desert born,
And 'neath the sordid roof my being drew;
Were nurs'd by poverty the most forlorn,

And ne'er one ray of hope or pleasure knew; Then had my soul been never taught to rise,

Then had I never dream'd of power or fame; No pictur'd scene of bliss deceiv'd my eyes, Nor glory lighted in my breast its flame.

GLUTTONY.

Percival.

And by his side rode loathsome gluttony,
Deformed creature, on a filthy swine;
His belly was up-blown with luxury,
And cke with fatness swollen were his eyne.

Spenser's Fairy Queen.

Whose life's the table and the stage,
He doth not spend, but lose his age.

Killegrew's Conspiracy. Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits. Shaks. Love's Labour. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace: Leave gormandizing.

Shaks. Henry IV. Part II. For swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to heaven amidst his gorgeous feast; But with besotted, base ingratitude rams, and blasphemes his feeder.

Milton's Comus. Suine, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die, By fire, flood, famine, by intemp'rance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire.

Milton's Paradise Lost.

The tankards foam; and the strong table groans
Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch'd immense
From side to side, in which with desperate knife
They deep incisions make.
Thomson

Prompted by instinct's never-erring power,
Each creature knows its proper aliment;
But man, th' inhabitant of every clime,
With all the commoners of nature fecds.
Directed, bounded, by this power within,
Their cravings are well aim'd: voluptuous man
Is by superior faculties misled;

Misled from pleasure even in quest of joy:
Sated with nature's boons, what thousands seck,
With dishes tortur'd from their native taste,
And mad variety, to spur beyond
Its wiser will the jaded appetite!
Is this for pleasure? learn a juster taste!
And know that temperance is true luxury.

Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health
Beyond the sense

Of light reflection, at the genial board
Indulge not often; nor protract the feast
To dull satiety; till soft and slow

A drowsy death creeps on th' expansive soul,
Oppress'd and smother'd the celestial fire.

Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health. Some men are born to feast, and not to fight; Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honour's field, Still on their dinner turn

Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home, And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.

Joanna Baillie's Basil

GOD.

God, who oft descends to visit men
Unseen, and through their habitations walks
To mark their doings.

Milton's Paradise Lost.
To God more glory, more good will to men
From God, and over wrath shall grace abound.
Milton's Paradise Lost.
When God reveals his march through Nature's
night,

His steps are beauty, and his presence light.
James Montgomery,

Spirit! whose life-sustaining presence fills
Air, ocean, central depths, by man untried,
Thou for thy worshippers hast sanctified
All place, all time! The silence of the hills
Breathes veneration:- founts and choral rills
Of Thee are murmuring: to its inmost glade
The living forest with Thy whisper thrills,
And there is holiness in every shade.

Mrs. Hemans's Poems.

But scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold,
Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold;
Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd,

And crowds with crimes the records of mankind:

For gold, his sword the hireling ruffian draws, For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws; Wealth, heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys,

The dangers gather as the treasures rise.

Dr. Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. Judges and senates have been bought for gold; Esteem and love were never to be sold.

Pope's Essay on Man. For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.

Burns.

Thou more than stone of the philosopher!
Thou touchstone of philosophy herself!
Thou bright eye of the mine! Thou lode-star of
The soul! Thou true magnetic pole, to which
All hearts point duly north, like trembling needles.
Byron.

| Gold! gold! in all ages the curse of mankind,
Thy fetters are forged for the soul and the mind.
The limbs may be free as the wings of a bird,
And the mind be the slave of a look and a word.

To gain thee, men barter eternity's crown,
Yield honour, affection, and lasting renown.
Park Benjamin.

Searcher of gold, whose days and nights
All waste away in anxious care,
Estranged from all of life's delights,
Unlearn'd in all that is most fair-
Who sailest not with easy glide,
But delvest in the depths of tide,
And strugglest in the foam;
O! come and view this land of graves,
Death's northern sea of frozen waves,
And mark thee out thy home.

GOODNESS.

J. O. Rockwell.

We cheer the pale gold-diggers,—

Each soul is worth so much on 'change, And mark'd, like sheep, with figures.

Miss Barrett.

O, knew I the spell of gold,
I would never poison a fresh young heart
With the taint of customs old.

1 would bind no wreath to my forehead free,
In whose shadow a thought might die,
Nor drink, from the cup of revelry,
The ruin my gold would buy.

Willis's Poems.

Ours is the land and age of gold, And ours the hallow'd time.

Good,

Only, is great, and generous, and fruitful.

Grenville Mellen.

Bailey's Festus.