264 11. 12. 13. FANCY-FAREWELL, &c. -Immortal dreams, that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle. And dream'd again The visions which arise without a sleep. BYRON'S Giaour. BYRON'S Lament of Tasso. Oh! that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, BYRON'S Manfred. 14. One of those passing rainbow dreams MOORE'S Lalla Rookh 15. Above, below, in ocean and in sky, Thy fairy worlds, Imagination, lie. 16. 'Mid earthly scenes forgotten or unknown, Lives in ideal worlds, and wanders there alone. CAMPBELL. CARLOS WILCOX. 17. I give you a legend from Fancy's own sketch, Tho', I warn you, he's given to fibbing-the wretch ! S. G. GOODRICH. FATE.— (See DESTINY.) FATHER-MOTHER-PARENTS. 1. Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire, 2. Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire. The poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, SHAKSPEARE. The young ones in her nest, against the owl. 3. Fathers their children and themselves abuse, SHAKSPEARE. That wealth, a husband, for their daughters choose. 4. But parents, to their offspring blind, 5. For if there be a human tear From passion's dross refin'd and clear, SHIRLEY. GAY's Fables. 6. To aid thy mind's development—to watch And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,- SCOTT. BYRON'S Childe Harold. 266 FATHER-MOTHER, &c. 7. My mother! at that holy name Within my bosom there's a gush 8. My heart grew softer as I gazed upon GEORGE P. MORRIS. That youthful mother, as she sooth'd to rest, May stoop to gaze on from their bowers of bliss, Is cradled, in a sinful world like this. MRS. A. B. WELBY. 9. Ere yet her child hath drawn its earliest breath, Is tender, though the man be made of stone. 11. Of sighs that speak a father's woe, pangs that none but mothers know. Of CHARLES SPRAGUE. 12. Sweet is the image of the brooding dove !— MRS. NORTON's Dream. 13. There are smiles and tears in the mother s eyes, Oh, heaven of bliss! when the heart overflows HENRY WARE. FAVOUR. 1. There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 2. O momentary grace of mortal man, SHAKSPEARE. Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! SHAKSPEARE. 3. 'Tis ever thus when favours are denied ; 4. No trifle is so small as what obtains, JOANNA BAILLIE. Save that which loses favour: 't is a breath HANNAH MORE. 1. Our sensibilities are so acute, The fear of being silent makes us mute. 2. Yet what is wit, and what the poet's art? COWPER. Can genius shield the vulnerable heart? 3. The soul of music slumbers in the shell, HANNAH MORE. Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell, ROGERS' Human Life. 4. Admire exalt-despise-laugh-weep-for here There is much matter for all feeling. BYRON'S Childe Harold. |