Chapter 8

In his brain-- Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage--he hath strange places crammed With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. _As You Like it, Act ii. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. _Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

And I oft have heard defended, Little said is soonest mended. _The Shepherd's Hunting_. G. WITHER.

Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear. _Venus and Adonis_. SHAKESPEARE.

Delivers in such apt and gracious words, That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished, So sweet and voluble is his discourse. _Love's Labor's Lost, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

COQUETRY.

Or light or dark, or short or tall, She sets a springe to snare them all: All's one to her--above her fan She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban. _Quatrains. Coquette_. T.B. ALDRICH.

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No." And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wrecked, with an inward scoffing. _Don Juan, Canto XII_. LORD BYRON.

And still she sits, young while the earth is old And, subtly of herself contemplative, Draws men to watch the bright net she can weave, Till heart and body and life are in its hold. _Lilith_. D.G. ROSSETTI.

How happy could I be with either, Were t' other dear charmer away! But while ye thus tease me together, To neither a word will I say. _Beggar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. 2_. J. GAY.

Ye belles, and ye flirts, and ye pert little things, Who trip in this frolicsome round, Pray tell me from whence this impertinence springs, The sexes at once to confound? _Song for Ranelagh_. P. WHITEHEAD.

COUNTRIES.

AMERICA.

America! half brother of the world! With something good and bad of every laud. _Festus: Sc. The Surface_. P.J. BAILEY.

Hail Columbia! happy land! Hail ye heroes, heaven-born band! Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, And when the storm of war was gone, Enjoyed the peace your valor won! Let independence be our boast, Ever mindful what it cost; Ever grateful for the prize, Let its altar reach the skies. Firm--united--let us be, Rallying round our liberty: As a band of brothers joined, Peace and safety we shall find. _Hail Columbia_. J. HOPKINSON.

Around I see The powers that be; I stand by Empire's primal springs; And princes meet In every street, And hear the tread of uncrowned kings!

* * * * *

Not lightly fall Beyond recall The written scrolls a breath can float; The crowning fact The kingliest act Of Freedom is the freeman's vote! _The Eve of Election_. J.G. WHITTIER.

Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation! _Courtship of Miles Standish_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty. _Connecticut_. F-G. HALLECK.

How has New England's romance fled, Even as a vision of the morning! Its right foredone,--its guardians dead,-- Its priestesses, bereft of dread, Waking the veriest urchin's scorning!

* * * * *

And now our modern Yankee sees Nor omens, spells, nor mysteries; And naught above, below, around,

Of life or death, of sight or sound, Whate'er its nature, form, or look, Excites his terror or surprise,-- All seeming to his knowing eyes Familiar as his "catechize," Or "Webster's Spelling-Book." _A New England Legend_. J.G. WHITTIER.

Long as thine Art shall love true love, Long as thy Science truth shall know, Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove, Long as thy Law by law shall grow, Long as thy God is God above, Thy brother every man below,-- So long, dear Land of all my love, Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow! _Centennial Meditation of Columbia_: 1876. S. LANIER.

His home!--the Western giant smiles, And turns the spotty globe to find it;-- This little speck the British Isles? 'Tis but a freckle,--never mind it. _A Good Time Going_. O.W. HOLMES.

ENGLAND.

O England! model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart. _King Henry V., Act ii. Chorus_. SHAKESPEARE.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war: This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea. Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. _King Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

England! my country, great and free! Heart of the world, I leap to thee! _Festus: Sc. The Surface_. P.J. BAILEY.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held. In everything we are sprung Of earth's first blood, have titles manifold. _National Independence, Sonnet XVI_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Heaven (that hath placed this island to give law To balance Europe, and her states to awe,) In this conjunction doth on Britain smile, The greatest leader, and the greatest isle! Whether this portion of the world were rent, By the rude ocean, from the continent, Or thus created; it was sure designed To be the sacred refuge of mankind. _To My Lord Protector_. E. WALLER.

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. _King John, Act v. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where freedom broadens slowly down, From precedent to precedent:

Where faction seldom gathers head: But, by degrees to fulness wrought, The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. _The Land of Lands_. A. TENNYSON.

Broad-based upon her people's will, And compassed by the inviolate sea. _To the Queen_. A. TENNYSON.

SCOTLAND.

O Caledonia! stern and wild. Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood. Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand! _Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI_. SIR W. SCOTT.

Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots Frae Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's. _On Capt. Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland_. R. BURNS.

HOLLAND.

As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds, And overflows the level grounds, Those banks and dams that, like a screen Did keep it out, now keep it in. _Hudibras_. S. BUTLER.

Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad Ocean leans against the land, And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow, Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. While the pent Ocean, rising o'er the pile, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile; The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale, The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, A new creation rescued from his reign. _The Traveller_. O. GOLDSMITH.

ITALY.

Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame. _Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it, "Italy." _De Gustibus_. R. BROWNING.

COURAGE.

Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bend To mean devices for a sordid end. Courage--an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne, By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone. Great in itself, not praises of the crowd, Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud. Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above, By which those great in war, are great in love. The spring of all brave acts is seated here, As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear. _Love and a Bottle: Dedication_. G. FARQUHAR.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. _King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Write on your doors the saying wise and old, "Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere--"Be bold; Be not too bold!" Yet better the excess Than the defect; better the more than less; Better like Hector in the field to die. Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly. _Morituri Salutamus_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.

MACBETH. If we should fail,-- LADY MACBETH. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail. _Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 7_. SHAKESPEARE.

What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble. _Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

"Brave boys," he said, "be not dismayed, For the loss of one commander, For God will be our king this day, And I'll be general under." _From the Battle of the Boyne. Old Ballad_.

By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavor for defence, For courage mounteth with occasion. _King John, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back. _Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Danger knows full well That Cæsar is more dangerous than he. We are two lions littered in one day, And I the elder and more terrible. _Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

No common object to your sight displays, But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys, A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed? Who sees him act, but envies every deed? _Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato_. A. POPE.

Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?--Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And fade him follow. _Julius Cæsar, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm." "So much the better," Juan said, "for them." _Don Juan_. LORD BYRON.

The intent and not the deed Is in our power; and therefore who dares greatly Does greatly. _Barbarossa_. J. BROWN.

False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. _Lochiel's Warning_. T. CAMPBELL.

COURTESY.

How sweet and gracious, even in common speech, Is that fine sense which men call Courtesy! Wholesome as air and genial as the light, Welcome in every clime as breath of flowers, It transmutes aliens into trusting friends, And gives its owner passport round the globe. _Courtesy_. J.T. FIELDS.

In thy discourse, if thou desire to please; All such is courteous, useful, new, or wittie: Usefulness comes by labor, wit by ease; Courtesie grows in court; news in the citie. _The Church Porch_. G. HERBERT.

I am the very pink of courtesy. _Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

The kindest man, The best-conditioned and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies. _Merchant of Venice, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Would you both please and be instructed too, Watch well the rage of shining, to subdue; Hear every man upon his favorite theme, And ever be more knowing than you seem. B. STILLINGFLEET.

COWARDICE.

What is danger More than the weakness of our apprehensions? A poor cold part o' th' blood. Who takes it hold of? Cowards and wicked livers: valiant minds Were made the masters of it. _Chances_. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Alike reserved to blame, or to commend, A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend; Dreading even fools, by flatteries besieged, And so obliging that he ne'er obliged. _Satires: Prologue_. A. POPE.

Cowards are cruel, but the brave Love mercy, and delight to save. _Fables, Pt. I. Fable I_. J. GAY.

When desp'rate ills demand a speedy cure, Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly. _Irene, Act iv. Sc. 1_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

He That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it, And, at the best, shows but a bastard valor. This life's a fort committed to my trust, Which I must not yield up, till it be forced: Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die, But he that boldly bears calamity. _Maid of Honor, Act iv. Sc. 1_. P. MASSINGER.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! _King John, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

For he who fights and runs away May live to fight another day; But he who is in battle slain Can never rise and fight again. _The Art of Poetry on a New Plan_. O. GOLDSMITH.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. _Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

CREED.

Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer. _Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.

But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. _Lalla Rookh: Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_. T. MOORE.

For fools are stubborn in their way, As coins are hardened by th' allay; And obstinacy's ne'er so stiff As when 'tis in a wrong belief. _Hudibras, Pt. III. Canto II_. S. BUTLER.

You can and you can't, You will and you won't; You'll be damned if you do, You'll be damned if you don't. _Chain (Definition of Calvinism)_. L. DOW.

They believed--faith, I'm puzzled--I think I may call Their belief a believing in nothing at all, Or something of that sort; I know they all went For a general union of total dissent. _A Fable for Critics_. J.R. LOWELL.

We are our own fates. Our own deeds Are our doomsmen. Man's life was made Not for men's creeds, But men's actions. _Lucile, Pt. II. Canto V_. LORD LYTTON (_Owen Meredith_).

Go put your creed into your deed. Nor speak with double tongue. _Ode: Concord, July 4, 1857_. R.W. EMERSON.

CRIME.

There is a method in man's wickedness, It grows up by degrees. _A King and no King, Act v. Sc. 4_. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Tremble, thou wretch, That has within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipped of justice. _King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

But many a crime deemed innocent on earth Is registered in Heaven; and these no doubt Have each their record, with a curse annexed. _The Task, Bk. VI_. W. COWPER.

CRITICISM.

And finds, with keen, discriminating sight, Black's not so black;--nor white so _very_ white. _New Morality_. A. CANNING.

In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. _Essay on Criticism, Pt. II_. A. POPE.

Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot. _Upon Roscommon's Translation of Horace's De Arte Poetica_. E. WALLER.

Vex not thou the poet's mind With thy shallow wit: Vex not thou the poet's mind: For thou canst not fathom it. _The Poet's Mind_. A. TENNYSON.

CUSTOM.

Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate, In all things ruled--mind, body, and estate. _Tale III., Gentleman Farmer_. G. CRABBE.

The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells. _Tirocinium_. W. COWPER.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on. _Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

Custom calls me to 't; What custom wills, in all things should we do 't, The dust on antique time would lie unswept, And mountainous error be too highly heapt For truth to o'erpeer. _Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

Such is the custom of Branksome Hall. _The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto I_. 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.

But to my mind,--though I am native here, And to the manner born,--it is a custom More honored in the breach, than the observance. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

DAY.

Day! Faster and more fast, O'er night's brim, day boils at last; Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim. _Pippa Passes: Introduction_. R. BROWNING.

How troublesome is day! It calls us from our sleep away; It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake, And sends us forth to keep or break Our promises to pay. How troublesome is day! _Fly-By-Night_. T.L. PEACOCK.

Blest power of sunshine!--genial day, What balm, what life is in thy ray! To feel there is such real bliss, That had the world no joy but this, To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,-- It were a world too exquisite For man to leave it for the gloom, The deep, cold shadow, of the tomb. _Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshippers_. T. MOORE.

DEATH.

Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. _Cupid and Death_. J. SHIRLEY.

A worm is in the bud of youth, And at the root of age. _Stanza subjoined to a Bill of Mortality_. W. COWPER.

The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours. _A Funeral Thought, Bk. II. Hymn 63_. DR. I. WATTS.

Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and--farewell king! _K. Richard II., Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds, There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors. _Old Fortunatus_. T. DEKKER.

Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither: Ripeness is all. _King Lear, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

This fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest. _Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. _King John, Act iv. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

That we shall die we know: 't is but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon. _Julius Cæsar, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Our days begin with trouble here, Our life is but a span, And cruel death is always near, So frail a thing is man. _New England Primer_.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. _Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

The hour concealed, and so remote the fear, Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. _Essay on Man, Epistle III_. A. POPE.

The tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony: When words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain; For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. _K. Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

A death-bed's a detector of the heart: Here tired dissimulation drops her mask, Through life's grimace that mistress of the scene; Here real and apparent are the same. _Night Thoughts, Night II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. _Night Thoughts. Night II_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died, As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 't were a careless trifle. _Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

The bad man's death is horror; but the just, Keeps something of his glory in the dust. _Castara_. W. HABINGTON.

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled; No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

With mortal crisis doth portend My days to appropinque an end. _Hudibras, Pt. I. Canto III_. S. BUTLER.

Sure, 't is a serious thing to die!... Nature runs back and shudders at the sight, And every life-string bleeds at thought of parting; For part they must: body and soul must part; Fond couple! linked more close than wedded pair. _The Grave_. B. BLAIR.

While man is growing, life is in decrease; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun. _Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Put out the light, and then--put out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, Thou cunningest pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat, That can thy light relume. When I have plucked thy rose I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. _Othello, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow. _Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Death aims with fouler spite At fairer marks. _Divine Poems_. F. QUARLES.

The ripest fruit first falls. _Richard II., Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket. _The Excursion, Bk. I_ W. WORDSWORTH.

Happy they! Thrice fortunate! who of that fragile mould, The precious porcelain of human clay, Break with the first fall. _Don Juan, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower. _A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson_. W.C. BRYANT.

"Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore. _Don Juan, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to Heaven conveyed, And bade it blossom there. _Epitaph on an Infant_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

Thank God for Death! bright thing with dreary name. _Benedicam Dominos_. SARAH C. WOOLSEY _(Susan Coolidge)_.

But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave. _To a Young Lady_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking: Thither the poor, the pris'ner, and the mourner Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down. _The Fair Penitent, Act v. Sc 1_. N. ROWE.

Death! to the happy thou art terrible, But how the wretched love to think of thee, O thou true comforter, the friend of all Who have no friend beside. _Joan of Arc_. R. SOUTHEY.

I would that I were low laid in my grave; I am not worth this coil that's made for me. _King John, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

He gave his honors to the world again, His blessèd part to heaven, and slept in peace. _Henry VIII., Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew; Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. _Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.