Chapter 13

Without the bed her other fair hand was, On the green coverlet; whose perfect white Showed like an April daisy on the grass, With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. _Lucrece_. SHAKESPEARE.

The hand of a woman is often, in youth, Somewhat rough, somewhat red, somewhat graceless, in truth; Does its beauty refine, as its pulses grow calm, Or as sorrow has crossed the life line in the palm? _Lucile, Pt. I. Canto III_. (_Owen Meredith_). LORD LYTTON.

They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand. _Romeo and Juliet. Act iii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

As if the world and they were hand and glove. _Table Talk_. W. COWPER.

With an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you. _Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Then join in hand, brave Americans all; By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall. _The Liberty Song_ (1768). J. DICKINSON.

HAPPINESS.

Fixed to no spot is Happiness sincere: 'Tis nowhere to be found, or ev'ry where; 'Tis never to be bought, but always free. _Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

We're charmed with distant views of happiness, But near approaches make the prospect less. _Against Enjoyment_. T. YALDEN.

For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart: And makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice, And the light of a pleasant eye. _Saturday Afternoon_. N.P. WILLIS.

True happiness ne'er entered at an eye; True happiness resides in things unseen. _Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these. _Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze. _Night Thoughts, Night I_. DR. E. YOUNG.

The way to bliss lies not on beds of down, And he that had no cross deserves no crown. _Esther_. F. QUARLES.

HATE.

Who love too much hate in the like extreme. _The Odyssey_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

These two hated with a hate Found only on the stage. _Don Juan, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. _The Mourning Bride, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 8. W. CONGREVE.

HEART.

Oh, the heart is a free and a fetterless thing,-- A wave of the ocean, a bird on the wing. _The Captive Greek Girl_. J. PARDOE.

His heart was one of those which most enamor us, Wax to receive, and marble to retain. _Beppo_. LORD BYRON.

There is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest. _Twilight_. F-G. HALLECK.

Worse than a bloody hand is a bloody heart. _The Cenci, Act_ v. _Sc. 2_. P.B. SHELLEY.

Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart? _Love of Fame, Satire II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, Which, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But, turning, trembles too. _A Prayer for Indifference_. MRS. F.M. GREVILLE.

Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head, And Learning wiser grow without his books. _The Task: Winter Walk at Noon_. W. COWPER.

My heart Is true as steel. _A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

HEAVEN.

A heart bestowed on heaven alone. _The Corsair_. LORD BYRON.

If God hath made this world so fair, Where sin and death abound, How beautiful, beyond compare, Will Paradise be found! _The Earth Full of God's Goodness_. J. MONTGOMERY.

This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion given; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,-- There's nothing true but Heaven! _Sacred Songs: The world is all a fleeting show_. T. MOORE.

Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years; And all that life is love. _The Issues of Life and Death_. J. MONTGOMERY.

No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream _Endymion, Bk. I_. J. KEATS.

_HEAVEN--HELL_.

'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose Friends out of sight, in faith to muse How grows in Paradise our store. _Burial of the Dead_. J. KEBLE.

Nor can his blessèd soul look down from heaven, Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest. _The Spanish Friar, Act v. Sc. 2_. J. DRYDEN.

Just are the ways of Heaven; from Heaven proceed The woes of man; Heaven doomed the Greeks to bleed. _Odyssey, Bk. VIII_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

In man's most dark extremity Oft succor dawns from Heaven. _The Lord of the Isles, Canto I_. SIR W. SCOTT.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown. _To an Afflicted Protestant Lady_. W. COWPER.

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish-- Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. _Sacred Songs: Come, ye Disconsolate_. T. MOORE.

HELL.

All hope abandon, ye who enter here. _Inferno, Canto III_. DANTE.

Which way shall I fly, Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light. _Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.

Nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

When all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven. _Faustus_. C. MARLOWE.

HELP.

Heav'n forming each on other to depend, A master, or a servant, or a friend, Bids each on other for assistance call, Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. _Essay on Man, Epistle II_. A. POPE.

Small service is true service while it lasts: Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one: The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun. _In a Child's Album_. W. WORDSWORTH.

What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief. _The Winter's Tale. Act iii. Sc.2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Help thyself, and God will help thee. _Jaculata Prudentum_. G. HERBERT.

HEROISM.

The hero is the world-man, in whose heart One passion stands for all, the most indulged. _Festus: Proem_. P.J. BAILEY.

The hero is not fed on sweets, Daily his own heart he eats; Chambers of the great are jails, And head-winds right for royal sails. _Essays: Heroism_. R.W. EMERSON.

Unbounded courage and compassion joined, Tempering each other in the victor's mind, Alternately proclaim him good and great, And make the hero and the man complete. _The Campaign_. J. Addison.

See the conquering hero comes, Sound the trumpet, beat the drums. _Orations of Joshua_. T. MORELL.

The man that is not moved at what he reads, That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, Unworthy of the blessings of the brave, Is base in kind, and born to be a slave. _Table Talk_. W. COWPER.

HOME.

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has survived the fall! _The Task, Bk. III_. W. COWPER.

The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. _Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

To make a happy fireside clime To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life. _Epistle to Dr. Blacklock_. R. BURNS.

For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room. _To the Bishop of Lincoln_. A. COWLEY.

His native home deep imaged in his soul. _Odyssey, Bk. XIII_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best. _Song_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

His home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. _West Indies, Pt. III_. J. MONTGOMERY.

At Christmas play, and make good cheer, For Christmas comes but once a year. _The Farmer's Daily Diet_. T. TUSSER.

He kept no Christmas-house for once a year: Each day his boards were filled with lordly fare. _A Maiden's Dream_. R. GREENE.

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze; And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore, Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore. _The Traveller_. O. GOLDSMITH.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn

Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in. _The Task: Winter Evening, Bk, IV_. W. COWPER.

HOPE.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. _King Richard III., Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Know then, whatever cheerful and serene Supports the mind, supports the body too; Hence, the most vital movement mortals feel Is hope, the balm and lifeblood of the soul. _Art of Preserving Health, Bk. IV_. J. ARMSTRONG.

O welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings! _Comus_. MILTON.

Hope! of all ills that men endure, The only cheap and universal cure!

* * * * *

Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness! Thou gentle dawning of a bright success!

* * * * *

Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be! _For Hope_. A. COWLEY.

Hope! thou nurse of young desire. _Love in a Village, Act i. Sc. 1_. L. BICKERSTAFF.

Hope, like a cordial, innocent though strong, Man's heart at once inspirits and serenes; Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys. _Night Thoughts, Night VII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray. _The Captivity, Act_ ii. O. GOLDSMITH.

Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. _King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act iv Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave--oh! leave the light of Hope behind! _The Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II_. T. CAMPBELL. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be, blest: The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come. _Essay on Man, Epistle I_. A. POPE.

The wretch condemned with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. _The Captivity, Act ii_. O. GOLDSMITH.

The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. _Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates. _Prometheus. Act iv_. P.B. SHELLEY.

HORSEMANSHIP.

I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. _King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

"Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed, With arching neck and bended head, And glancing eye, and quivering ear, As if he loved his lord to hear. No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid. No grasp upon the saddle laid, But wreathed his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the plain, Turned on the horse his armèd heel, And stirred his courage with the steel. Bounded the fiery steed in air, The rider sate erect and fair, Then, like a bolt from steel cross-bow, Forth launched, along the plain they go. _The Lady of the Lake, Canto V_. SIR W. SCOTT.

After many strains and heaves, He got up to the saddle eaves, From whence he vaulted into the seat With so much vigor, strength, and heat, That he had almost tumbled over With his own weight, but did recover, By laying hold of tail and mane, Which oft he used instead of rein. _Hudibras_. S. BUTLER.

HOSPITALITY.

You must come home with me and be my guest; You will give joy to me, and I will do All that is in my power to honor you. _Hymn to Mercury_, P.B. SHELLEY.

Sir, you are very welcome to our house: It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. _Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

So saying, with despatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent. _Paradise Lost, Bk. V_. MILTON.

This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. _Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc_. 2. SHAKESPEARE.

The atmosphere Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers Seem full of welcomes. _Masque of Pandora_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. _Comedy of Errors, Act iii. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.

Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs, When seasoned by love, which no rancor disturbs And sweetened by all that is sweetest in life Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife! _Lucile_. LORD LYTTON (_Owen Meredith_).

Now good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! _Macbeth, Act iii. Sc_. 4. SHAKESPEARE.

I've often wished that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end. _Imitation of Horace, Bk. II. Sat_. 6. J. SWIFT.

True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. _Odyssey, Bk. XV_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

HUMILITY.

Humility, that low, sweet root, From which all heavenly virtues shoot. _Loves of the Angels: The Third Angel's Story_. T. MOORE.

Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honor is a private station. _Cato, Act iv. Sc_. 4. J. ADDISON.

In a bondman's key, With 'bated breath, and whisp'ring humbleness. _Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. _Much Ado About Nothing, Act ii. Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

God hath sworn to lift on high Who sinks himself by true humility. _Miscellaneous Poems: At Hooker's Tomb_. J. KEBLE.

HUNTING.

Soon as Aurora drives away the night, And edges eastern clouds with rosy light, The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn, Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn. _Rural Sports, Canto II_. J. GAY.

Together let us beat this ample field, Try what the open, what the covert yield. _Essay on Man, Epistle I_. A. POPE.

My hoarse-sounding horn Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings; Image of war without its guilt. _The Chase_. W.C. SOMERVILLE.

Contusion hazarding of neck or spine, Which rural gentlemen call sport divine. _Needless Alarm_. W. COWPER.

My hawk is tired of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall. I wish I were as I have been Hunting the hart in forests green, With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me! _The Lady of the Lake: Lay of the Imprisoned Huntsman, Canto VI_. SIR W. SCOTT.

Oh! what delight can a mortal lack, When he once is firm on his horse's back, With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong, And the blast of the horn for his morning song! _The Hunter's Song_. B.W. PROCTER _(Barry Cornwall)_.

See from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings; Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. _Windsor Forest_. A. POPE.

But as some muskets so contrive it, As oft to miss the mark they drive at, And though well aimed at duck or plover, Bear wide, and kick their owners over. _McFingal, Canto I_. J. TRUMBULL.

HYPOCRISY.

Oh, for _a forty-parson power_ to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise! _Don Juan, Canto X_. LORD BYRON.

For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone, By his permissive will, through heaven and earth. _Paradise Lost, Bk. III_. MILTON.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show; False face must hide what the false heart doth know. _Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? _Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE. Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! _Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming. _The Task, Bk. II_. W. COWPER.

He seemed For dignity composed and high exploit: But all was false and hollow. _Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.

He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven To serve the Devil in. _Course of Time, Bk. VIII_ R. POLLOK.

The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul, producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! _Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

But then I sigh, and with a piece of Scripture Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villany With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil. _King Richard III., Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O villain, villain, smiling damnèd villain! My tables,--meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

That practised falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Built God a church, and laughed his word to scorn. _Retirement_. W. COWPER.

And the devil did grin, for his darling sin Is pride that apes humility. _The Devil's Thoughts_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! _Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself. _Hamlet, Act iii, Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing: But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling. _Epistle to a Young Friend_. R. BURNS.

IDLENESS.

'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again." _The Sluggard_. DR. I. WATTS.

Sloth views the towers of fame with envious eyes, Desirous still, still impotent to rise. _The Judgment of Hercules_. W. SHENSTONE.

Their only labor was to kill the time (And labor dire it is, and weary woe); They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme; Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go, Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow: This soon too rude an exercise they find; Straight on the couch their limbs again they throw, Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined, And court the vapory god, soft breathing in the wind. _The Castle of Indolence, Canto I_. J. THOMSON.

Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels, How heavily we drag the load of life! Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It makes us wander, wander earth around To fly that tyrant, thought. _Night Thoughts, Night II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

To sigh, yet feel no pain, To weep, yet scarce know why; To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by. _The Blue Stocking_. T. MOORE.

The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed. _The Giaour_. LORD BYRON.

A lazy lolling sort, Unseen at church, at senate, or at court, Of ever-listless idlers, that attend No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend. There too, my Paridell! she marked thee there, Stretched on the rack of a too easy chair, And heard thy everlasting yawn confess The pains and penalties of idleness. _The Dunciad, Bk. IV_. A. POPE.

An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless if it goes as if it stands. _Retirement_. W. COWPER.

There is no remedy for time misspent; No healing for the waste of idleness, Whose very languor is a punishment Heavier than active souls can feel or guess. _Sonnet_. SIR A. DE VERE.

For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. _Song XX_. DR. I. WATTS.

ILLNESS.

As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath, Receives the lurking principle of death, The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength. _Essay on Man, Epistle II_. A. POPE.

Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relieved, Or not at all. _Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

So when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns, And 'tis a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain. _Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Bk. II. Hymn 146_. DR. I. WATTS.

Long pains are light ones, Cruel ones are brief! _Compensation_. J.G. SAXE.

Then with no throbs of fiery pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way. _Verses on Robert Levet_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

IMAGINATION.

Within the soul a faculty abides, That with interpositions, which would hide And darken, so can deal that they become Contingencies of pomp; and serve to exalt Her native brightness. As the ample moon, In the deep stillness of a summer even Rising behind a thick and lofty grove, Burns, like an unconsuming fire of light, In the green trees; and, kindling on all sides Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil Into a substance glorious as her own. _The Excursion, Bk. IV_. W. WORDSWORTH.

O for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! _King Henry V., Chorus_. SHAKESPEARE.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn. _Progress of Poesy_. T. GRAY.

One of those passing rainbow dreams Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams Paint on the fleeting mists that roll, In trance or slumber, round the soul. _Lalla Rookh_. T. MOORE.

Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation:--where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair? Where are the charms and virtues which we dare Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men, The unreached Paradise of our despair, Which o'er-informs the pencil and the pen, And overpowers the page where it would bloom again? _Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

We figure to ourselves The thing we like, and then we build it up As chance will have it, on the rock or sand; For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, And home-bound Fancy runs her bark ashore. _Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I, Act i. Sc. 5_. SIR H. TAYLOR.

HAMLET. My father,--methinks I see my father. HORATIO. Oh! where, my lord? HAMLET. In my mind's eye, Horatio. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass. _Poems_. E. DICKINSON.

IMMORTALITY.