Chapter 24

Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. _Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock: Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags: 'T is but an hour ago since it was nine; And after one hour more 't will be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale." _As You Like it, Act ii. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven, Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven. _Ode in Imitation of Alcaeus_. SIR W. JONES.

Nought treads so silent as the foot of Time; Hence we mistake our autumn for our prime. _Love of Fame, Satire IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. _All's Well that End's Well, Act v. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

TOBACCO.

Sublime tobacco! which from east to west. Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest,

* * * * *

Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe. When tipped with amber, mellow, rich and ripe; Like other charmers, wooing the caress More dazzlingly when daring in full dress; Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties--Give me a cigar! _The Island, Canto II_. LORD BYRON.

Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learnèd doctors' spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight. _To my Cigar_. C. SPRAGUE.

Such often, like the tube they so admire, Important triflers! have more smoke than fire. Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys, Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours. _Conversation_. W. COWPER.

Tobacco's a musician, And in a pipe delighteth; It descends in a close Through the organ of the nose. With a relish that inviteth. _Song: Play of Technogamia_. B. HOLIDAY.

Some sigh for this and that; My wishes don't go far; The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. _The Cigar_. T. HOOD.

The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a sentence at a time enough; The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain, Then pause, and puff--and speak, and pause again. _Conversation_. W. COWPER.

To him 't was meat and drink and physic, To see the friendly vapor Curl round his midnight taper. And the black fume Clothe all the room, In clouds as dark as science metaphysic. _Points of Misery_. C.M. WESTMACOTT.

Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; The gnomes direct, to every atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust; Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. _Rape of the Lock, Canto V_. A. POPE.

TO-MORROW.

To-morrow yet would reap to-day, As we bear blossoms of the dead; Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay. _Love Thou the Land_. A. TENNYSON.

In human hearts what bolder thoughts can rise, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn! Where is to-morrow? _Night Thoughts, Night I_. DR. E. YOUNG.

To-morrow is a satire on to-day, And shows its weakness. _The Old Man's Repose_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Nothing that is can pause or stay; The moon will wax, the moon will wane, The mist and cloud will turn to rain, The rain to mist and cloud again, To-morrow be to-day. _Kéramos_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

To-morrow is, ah, whose? _Between Two Worlds_. D.M. MULOCK CRAIK.

TREASON.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbors treason. The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb. _King Henry VI., Pt. II. Act iii. Sc. 1_ SHAKESPEARE.

Treason is not owned when 't is descried; Successful crimes alone are justified. _Medals_. J. DRYDEN.

Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it treason. _Epigrams_. SIR J. BARRINGTON.

Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence With vizored falsehood and base forgery? _Comus_. MILTON.

Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might! _Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshipers_. T. MOORE.

To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master. And cried "All hail!" whereas he meant all harm. _King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act v. Sc. 7_ SHAKESPEARE.

Tellest thou me of "ifs"? Thou art a traitor: Off with his head! so much for Buckingham! _King Richard III. Altered, Act iv, Sc. 3_. C. CIBBER

TREE.

Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery thickets hail! Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks! Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul. _Seasons: Summer_. J. THOMSON.

Now all the tree-tops lay asleep, Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean woods may be. _The Recollection_. P.B. SHELLEY.

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones; The arch beneath them is not built with stones, Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines, And carved this graceful arabesque of vines; No organ but the wind here sighs and moans, No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones, No marble bishop on his tomb reclines. Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves, Gives back a softened echo to thy tread! Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds, In leafy galleries beneath the eaves, Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled, And learn there may be worship without words. _My Cathedral_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir. _Hyperion, Bk. I_. J. KEATS.

A brotherhood of venerable Trees. _Sonnet composed at ---- Castle_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. _Yew-Trees_. W. WORDSWORTH.

TRIFLE.

A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. _King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act iv, Sc. 8_. SHAKESPEARE.

Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hair, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there! _Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot: Prologue to Satires_. A. POPE.

At every trifle scorn to take offence; That always shows great pride or little sense. _Essay on Criticism_. A. POPE.

Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year. And trifles life. _Love of Fame, Satire VI_. DR. E. YOUNG.

TRUTH.

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep. _The Frankeleines Tale_. CHAUCER.

But truths on which depends our main concern, That 't is our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read. _Tirocinium_. W. COWPER.

For truth has such a face and such a mien, As to be loved needs only to be seen. _The Hind and Panther_. J. DRYDEN.

And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill. _Sonnet LXVI_. SHAKESPEARE.

The firste vertue, gone, if thou wilt lere, Is to restreine, and kepen wel thy tonge. _The Manciples Tale_. CHAUCER.

'T is strange--but true; for truth is always strange: Stranger than fiction. _Don Juan, Canto XIV_. LORD BYRON.

But what is truth? 'T was Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deigned him no reply. _The. Task, Bk. III_. W. COWPER.

The sages say, Dame Truth delights to dwell (Strange mansion!) in the bottom of a well: Questions are then the windlass and the rope That pull the grave old Gentlewoman up, _Birthday Ode_. J. WOLCOTT _(Peter Pindar)_.

Get but the truth once uttered, and 't is like A star new-born that drops into its place And which, once circling in its placid round, Not all the tumult of the earth can shake. _Glance Behind the Curtain_. J.R. LOWELL.

TYRANNY.

So spake the Fiend, and with necessity, The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Tyranny Absolves all faith; and who invades our rights, Howe'er his own commence, can never be But an usurper. _Gustavus Vasa, Act iv. Sc. 1_. H. BROOKE.

Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief. _The Two Foscari, Act ii. Sc. 1_. LORD BYRON.

Slaves would be tyrants if the chance were theirs. _The Vanished City_. V. HUGO.

'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known: Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their owne. _Kings and Tyrants_. R. HERRICK.

Oh! it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.

* * * * *

Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder,-- Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man! Drest in a little brief authority,-- Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. _Measure for Measure, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

VANITY.

As eddies draw things frivolous and light, How is man's heart by vanity drawn in! _Night Thoughts_ DR. E. YOUNG.

One prospect lost, another still we gain; And not a vanity is giv'n in vain: Even mean Self-love becomes, by force divine, The scale to measure others' wants by thine. _Essay on Man, Epistle II_. A. POPE.

Sir Plume (of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane), With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuff-box opened, then the case. _Rape of the Lock_ A. POPE.

Light vanity, insatiate cormorant. Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. _King Richard II., Act ii. Sc. I_. SHAKESPEARE.

VARIETY.

The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change. And pleased with novelty, might be indulged. _The Task, Bk. I_. W. COWPER.

Variety's the very spice of life. That gives it all its flavor. _The Timepiece: The Task, Bk. II_ W. COWPER.

Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised. But, as the world, harmoniously confused, Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree. _Windsor Forest_ A. POPE.

How various his employments whom the world Calls idle, and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler too! _The Task: The Timepiece_. W. COWPER.

VIRTUE.

The world in all doth but two nations bear, The good, the bad, and these mixed everywhere. _The Loyal Scot_. A. MARVELL.

What nothing earthly gives or can destroy,-- The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy, Is Virtue's prize. _Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures, That life is long, which answers life's great end. The time that bears no fruit, deserves no name. _Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Good, the more Communicated, more abundant grows. _Paradise Lost, Bk. V_. MILTON.

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be wooed, and not unsought be won. _Paradise Lost, Bk. VIII_. MILTON.

Know then this truth (enough for man to know), "Virtue alone is happiness below." _Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds; And though a late, a sure reward succeeds. _The Mourning Bride, Act v. Sc. 12_. W. CONGREVE.

That virtue only makes our bliss below, And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. _Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

Pygmies are pygmies still, though perched on Alps; And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids; Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. _Night Thoughts, Night VI_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Abashed the devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely. _Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

So dear to heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lacky her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt. _Comus_. MILTON.

Adieu, dear, amiable youth! Your heart can ne'er be wanting! May prudence, fortitude, and truth Erect your brow undaunting!

In ploughman phrase, "God send you speed," Still daily to grow wiser; And may you better reck the rede, Than ever did the adviser! _Epistle to a Young Friend_. R. BURNS.

Though lone the way as that already trod, Cling to thine own integrity and God! _To One Deceived_. H.T. TUCKERMAN.

Virtue she finds too painful to endeavor, Content to dwell in decencies forever. _Moral Essays, Epistle II_. A. POPE.

Keep virtue's simple path before your eyes, Nor think from evil good can ever rise. _Tancred, Act v. Sc. 8_. J. THOMSON.

Count that day lost whose low descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done. _Staniford's Art of Reading_. ANONYMOUS.

This above all.--to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

VISIONS.

My thoughts by night are often filled With visions false as fair: For in the past alone I build My castles in the air. _Castles in the Air_. T.L. PEACOCK.

It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream, A blissful certainty, a vision bright, Of that rare happiness, which even on earth Heaven gives to those it loves. _The Spanish Student, Act iii. Sc. 5_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme, The air-built castle, and the golden dream. The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame, And poet's vision of eternal fame. _Dunciad, Bk. III_. A. POPE.

And still they dream, that they shall still succeed; And still are disappointed. Rings the world With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind, And add two-thirds of the remaining half, And find the total of their hopes and fears Dreams, empty dreams. _The Task, Bk. VI_. W. COWPER.

[_Witches vanish_. BANQUO.--The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanished? MACBETH.--Into the air; and what seemed corporal melted As breath into the wind. _Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, In ranks and squadrons, and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol. O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them. _Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day; For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal; 'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. _Lochiel's Warning_. T. CAMPBELL.

WAR.

My sentence is for open war; of wiles More unexpert I boast not: then let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. _Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.

And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

* * * * *

Cry "Havock!" and let slip the dogs of war. _Julius Cæsar, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

In every heart Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war; Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. _The Task: Winter Morning Walk_. W. COWPER.

Long peace, I find, But nurses dangerous humors up to strength, License and wanton rage, which war alone Can purge away. _Mustapha_. D. MALLET.

The fire-eyed maid of smoky war All hot and bleeding will we offer them. _King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. _Lochiel's Warning_. T. CAMPBELL.

He is come to ope The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. _King Richard II., Act iii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

War, my lord, Is of eternal use to human kind; For ever and anon when you have passed A few dull years in peace and propagation, The world is overstocked with fools, and wants A pestilence at least, if not a hero. _Edwin_. G. JEFFREYS.

O War! thou hast thy fierce delight, Thy gleams of joy intensely bright! Such gleams as from thy polished shield Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field! _Lord of the Isles_. SIR W. SCOTT.

The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down. _Othello, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, _They come_. Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up. _Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

War, war is still the cry.--"war even to the knife!" _Childe Harold, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

WAR.

O, the sight entrancing, When morning's beam is glancing O'er files arrayed With helm and blade, And plumes, in the gay wind dancing! When hearts are all high beating, And the trumpet's voice repeating That song, whose breath May lead to death, But never to retreating. O, the sight entrancing. When morning's beam is glancing O'er files arrayed With helm and blade, And plumes, in the gay wind dancing. _O, the sight entrancing_. T. MOORE.

From the tents, The armorers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. _King Henry V., Act iv. Chorus_. SHAKESPEARE.

Father, I call on thee! Clouds from the thunder-voiced cannon enveil me, Lightnings are flashing, death's thick darts assail me: Ruler of battles, I call on thee! Father, oh lead thou me! _Prayer During the Battle. German of_ K.T. KÖRNER. _Trans. of_ J.S. BLACKIE.

Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe; And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame! _Lochiel's Warning_. T. CAMPBELL.

Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend; And each brave foe was in his soul a friend. _The Iliad, Bk. VII_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

Ay me! what perils do environ The man that meddles with cold iron. _Hudibras, Pt. I. Canto III_. S. BUTLER.

Now swells the intermingling din; the jar Frequent and frightful of the bursting bomb; The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout, The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men Inebriate with rage;--loud, and more loud The discord grows: till pale Death shuts the scene, And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws His cold and bloody shroud.

* * * * *

War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade, And to those royal murderers whose mean thrones Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore. The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean. _War_. P.B. SHELLEY.

One to destroy is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame. _Love of Fame, Satire VII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Great princes have great playthings.

* * * * *

But war's a game which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at. _The Task: Winter Morning Walk_. W. COWPER.

One murder made a villain, Millions a hero. Princes were privileged To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime. _Death_ B. PORTEUS.

Mark where his carnage and his conquest cease! He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace! _The Bride of Abydos, Canto II_. LORD BYRON.

Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, And takes away the use of it; and my sword. Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphans' tears, Will not be drawn. _A New Way to Pay Old Debts, Act v. Sc. 1_. P. MASSINGER.

Ez fer war, I call it murder,-- There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that. _The Biglow Papers, First Series, No. I_. J.R. LOWELL.

WATERS.

Water is the mother of the vine, The nurse and fountain of fecundity. The adorner and refresher of the world. _The Dionysia_. C. MACKAY.

Till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water's worth; If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, Or with a famished boat's-crew had your berth, Or in the desert heard the camel's bell, You'd wish yourself where Truth is--in a well. _Don Juan, Canto II_. LORD BYRON.

Water its living strength first shows, When obstacles its course oppose. _God, Soul, and World_. J.W. GOETHE.

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage; But, when his fair course is not hinderèd, He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. _Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act_ ii. _Sc_. 7. SHAKESPEARE.

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrewn, Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave: And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave. _The Minstrel, Book II_. J. BEATTIE.

Along thy wild and willowed shore; Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still. _Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto IV_. SIR W. SCOTT.

With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks. _The Story of Rimini_. L. HUNT.

The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below! _Gertrude, Pt. III_. T. CAMPBELL.

Thou hastenest down between the hills to meet me at the road, The secret scarcely lisping of thy beautiful abode Among the pines and mosses of yonder shadowy height. Where thou dost sparkle into song, and fill the woods with light. _Friend Brook_. LUCY LARCOM.

Brook! whose society the poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks. And tracks thee dancing down thy water breaks. _Brook! Whose Society the Poet Seeks_. W. WORDSWORTH.

The roar of waters!--from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice; The fall of waters! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture. _Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow! _Yarrow Unvisited_. W. WORDSWORTH.