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EXTRAVAGANCE-EXTREMES-EYES.

161

Gay was the love of paradise he drew

And pictured in his fancy; he did dwell
Upon it till it had a life; he threw

A tint of heaven athwart it-who can tell

The yearnings of his heart, the charm, the spell,
That bound him to that vision

EXTRAVAGANCE.

Percival.

'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port,
Than my faint means would grant continuance.
Shaks. Merchant of Venice.
The man who builds and wants wherewith to pay,
Provides a home from which to run away.
Young's Love of Fame.
Behold, Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit;
What late he call'd a blessing, now was wit,
And God's good providence a lucky hit.

Things change their titles as their manners turn:
His counting-house employ'd the Sunday morn:
Seldom at church, ('t was such a busy life)
But duly sent his family and wife.

Pope's Moral Essays.
For what has Virro painted, built and planted?
Only to show how many tastes he wanted.
What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste?
Some demon whisper'd, Visto has a taste.

Pope's Moral Essays.
We sacrifice to dress, till household joys
And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires,
And introduces hunger, frost and woe,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.

Mansions once

Cowper's Task.

Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds,
That had surviv'd the father, serv'd the son.
Now the legitimate and rightful lord
Is but a transient guest, newly arrived,
And soon to be supplanted. He that saw
His patrimonial timber cast its leaf,

Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price
To some shrewd sharper ere it buds again.
Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile,
Then advertised and auctioneer'd away.

Dreading that climax of all human ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

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Long while I sought to what I might compare
Those powerful eyes, which lighten my dark spir
Cowper's Task. Yet found I nought on earth, to which I dare
Resemble the image of their goodly light.
Not to the sun, for they do shine by night;
Nor to the moon, for they are changed never;
Nor to the stars, for they have purer sight:
Nor to the fire, for they consume not ever,
Byron. Nor to the lightning. for they still persever

Byron. In my young days they lent me cash that way, Which I found very troublesome to pay.

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From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academies,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world,
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent.
Shaks. Love's Labour.
Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes-that are the frail'st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Shaks. As You Like It.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not.
Shaks. As You Like It.

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Eyes with the same bluc witchery as those
Of Psyche, which caught Love in his own wiles.
Translated from the Italian
Love has a fleeter messenger than speech,
To tell love's meaning. His expresses post
Upon the orbs of vision, ere the tongue
Can shape them into words.

G. Coleman, Jr. His dark, pensive eye, Speaks the high soul, the thought sublime That dwells on immortality.

Charlotte Elizabeth. Look on his eyes, and thou wilt find A sadness in their beam, Like the pensive shades that willows cast On the sky-reflected stream.

Eliza Cook

- Eyes that droop like summer flowers Told they could change with shine and showers, Miss Landen.

Her deep blue eyes smil'd constantly—as if they had by fitness Won the secret of a happy dream, she did not care to speak.

Miss Barrett.

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Some praise the eyes they love to see,
As rivalling the western star;
But eyes I know well worth to me
A thousand firmaments afar.

Bulwer.

Byron.

John Sterling

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May's Henry II.

Avoid the politic, the factious fool,

The busy, buzzing, talking, harden'd knave;

The quaint smooth rogue, that sins against his

reason,

Calls saucy loud sedition public zeal: And mutiny the dictates of his spirit.

FAIRIES.

In silence sad,

Trip we after the night's shade: We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand'ring moon.

Otway

Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream, Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gamból in his eyes; Feed him with apricots and dewberries; With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes; Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

Shaks. Midsummer Night's Dream. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathoms deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.

Shaks. Romeo and Juliet.

And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice.

Shaks. Romeo and Juliet

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Beautiful spirit! with thy hair of light,
And dazzling eyes of glory, in whose form
The charms of earth's least mortal daughters grow
To an unearthly stature, in an essence
Of purer elements; while the hues of youth
Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek,
Rock'd by the beating of her mother's heart,
Or the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves
Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow,
The blush of earth, embracing with her heaven-
Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame
The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee.
Byron's Manfred.

Oberon, Titania,

Did your star-light mirth,
With the song of Avon,

Quit this work-day earth?
Yet while green leaves glisten
And while bright stars burn,
By that magic memory,
Oh, return, return!

Did you ever hear

The tender violets bent in smiles
To elves that sported nigh,
Tossing the drops of fragrant dew
To scent the evening sky;
They kiss'd the rose in love and mirth,
And its petals fairer grew;

A shower of pearly dust they brought,
And o'er the lily threw.

Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's Sinless Child.

FAITH.

True faith and reason are the soul's two eyes;
Faith evermore looks upward, and descries
Objects remote; but reason can discover
Things only near,-sees nothing that's above her.
They are not matches,-often disagree,

And sometimes both are clos'd and neither see.
Faith views the sun, and reason but the shade;
One courts the mistress, th' other wooes the maid,
That sees the fire, this only but the flint;
The true-bred Christian always looks asquint.

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Quarles

If forc'd from faith, for ever miserable:
For what is misery but want of God,
And God is lost if faith be overthrown.
Soliman and Perseda.
Tradition! time's suspected register!
Too oft religion at her trial fails;
Instead of knowledge, teacheth her to err,
And wears out truth's best stories into tales.
Sir W. Davenant,

Mrs. Hemans's Poems. If faith with reason never doth advise,

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Nor yet tradition leads her, she is then
From heav'n inspir'd; and secretly grows wise
Above the schools, we know not how, nor when.
Sir W. Davenant.

Faith lights us through the dark to deity;
Whilst, without sight, we witness that she shows
More God than in his works our eyes can see;
Though none but by those works the Godhead
knows.
Sir W. Davenant.
When the soul grants what reason makes her see,
That is true faith, what's more's credulity.

Sir F. Fant.
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.

Pope.

Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death,
To break the shock blind nature cannot shun,
And lands thought smoothly on the further shore.
Young's Night Thoughts.

And melancholy fear subdued by faith.

Wordsworth.

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He, that this morn rose proudly as the sun,
And breaking through a mist of clients' breath,
Came on as gaz'd at, and admir'd as he,
When superstitious Moors salute his light!
That had our servile nobles, waiting him
As common grooms; and hanging on his look,
No less than human life on destiny!
That had men's knees as frequent as the gods;
And sacrifices more than Rome had altars;
And this man fall! fall! ay, without a look,
That durst appear his friend, or lend so much
Of vain relief, to his chang'd state, as pity!
Jonson's Sejanus.

Who bravely fall have this one happiness,
Above the conqueror; they share his fame,
And have more love, and an unenvy'd name.
Crown's Darius.

When once a shaking monarchy declines,
Each thing grows bold, and to its fall combines.
Crown's Charles VIII. of France.

FALSEHOOD.

What wit so sharp is found in age or youth, That can distinguish truth from treachery? Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth, And masks i' th' habit of plain honesty, When she in heart intends most villany.

Mirror for Magistrates.

Money and man a mutual falsehood show,
Men make false money,-money makes men so.
Aleyn's Henry VII.

Every man in this age has not a soul
Of crystal for all men to read their actions
Through: men's hearts and faces are so far

asunder,

That they hold no intelligence.

Beaumont and Fletcher's False One. How false are men, both in their heads and hearts; And there is falsehood in all trades and arts.

Lawyers deceive their clients by false law; Priests, by false gods, keep all the world in awe. For their false tongues such flatt'ring knaves are rais'd,

For their false wit, scribblers by fools are prais'd. Crown's Caligula

Who should be trusted when one's own right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Protheus,

I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest.

Shaks. Two Gentlemen of Verona.
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell!
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.

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