24. There is no darkness like the cloud of mind

On grief's vain eye-the blindest of the blind,
Which may not, dare not see, but turns aside
To blackest shade, nor will endure a guide.

BYRON'S Corsair.

25. Upon her face there was the tint of grief,
The settled shadow of an inward strife,
And an unquiet drooping of the eye,
As if its lid were charg'd with unshed tears.

BYRON'S Dream.

26. For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

27. The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,

28.

CAMPBELL.

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears:
The flower is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
SCOTT's Lady of the Lake.

The heavy sigh,

The tear in the half-open'd eye,
The pallid cheek and brow, confess'd
That grief was busy in his breast.

SCOTT'S Rokeby.

29. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser-care;
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear!

30. He hung his head-each nobler aim,

And hope, and feeling, which had slept
From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept!
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence !

In whose benign, redeeming flow

Is felt the first, the only sense

Of guiltless joy that guilt may know!

BURNS.

MOORE'S Lalla Rookh.

316

31.

Tears-floods of tears

Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills

Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills,
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost,

Through valleys where their flow had long been lost."

32. The blight of hope and happiness

MOORE'S Lalla Rookh.

Is felt when fond ones part,
And the bitter tear that follows, is

The life-blood of the heart.

33. When all that in absence we dread Is past, and forgotten's our pain,

FITZ-GREEN HALLECK.

How sweet is the tear we at such moments shed,
When we see the sweet object again!

R. WILLIS.

GUILT SIN-VICE.

1. Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our wo.

MILTON'S Paradise Lost.

2. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

3. It is great sin to swear unto a sin,

But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

4. Guiltiness would speak, tho' tongues were out of use.

5.

Serpents, though they feed

On sweetest flowers, yet do poisons breed.

gorls are

4

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

givit of of our pleasant vices

ike instruments to scourge

6.

Our sins, like to our shadows,

When our day's in its glory, scarce appear;
Towards our evening, how great and monstrous!

SUCKLING.

7. How guilt, once harbour'd in the conscious breast, Intimidates the brave, degrades the great!

8. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
But, seen too oft, familiar to the face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

DR. JOHNSON.

POPE'S Essay on Man.

9. Where, where, for shelter shall the guilty fly, When consternation turns the good man pale?

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts.

10. Ah me! from real happiness we stray,
By vice bewilder'd; vice, which always leads,
However fair at first, to wilds of wo.

THOMSON'S Agamemnon.

11. Not all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied words of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

12. Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways! While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape The fascination of thy magic gaze?

13.

A cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape,

And mould to every taste thy dear, delusive shape!

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

To what gulfs

A single deviation from the track

Of human duties leads!

BYRON'S Sardanapalus.

14. Thou need'st not answer; thy confession speaks, Already redd'ning in thy guilty cheeks.

BYRON'S Corsair.

1. The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven,

But changes, night and day too, like the sky:
Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven,
And darkness, and destruction, as on high;
But when it hath been scorch'd and pierc'd and riven,
Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye

Pours forth, at last, the heart's blood turn'd to tears.

2. To me she gave her heart-that all

Which tyranny cannot enthral.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

BYRON'S Giaour.

BYRON'S Corsair.

3. Worm-like 't was trampled, adder-like aveng'd.

4. His heart was all on honour bent,

He could not stoop to love;

No lady in the land had power

His frozen heart to move.

5. The flush of youth soon passes from the face,
The spells of fancy from the mind depart;
The form may lose its symmetry and grace,-
But time can claim no victory o'er the heart.

6.

That heart, methinks,

MRS. DINNIES.

Were of strange mould, which kept no cherish'd print
Of earlier, happier times, when life was fresh,
And love and innocence made holiday.

7. I am not old-tho' Time has set
His signet on my brow,

And some faint furrows there have met,
Which care may deepen now:-
For in my heart a fountain flows,
And round it pleasant thoughts repose,
And sympathies and feelings high
Spring like the stars on evening sky.

HILLHOUSE.

PARK BENJAMIN.

8. Honour to him, who, self-complete and brave,
In scorn can carve his pathway to the grave,
And, heeding nought of what men think or say,
Make his own heart his world upon the way!

The New Timon.

9. Mine be the heart that can itself defend-
Hate to the foe, devotion to the friend!
The fearless trust, and the relentless strife,
Honour unsold, and wrong aveng'd with life!

10. My heart is like the sleeping lake,

The New Timon.

Which takes the hue of cloud and sky,

And only feels its surface break

When birds of passage wander by,
Who dip their wings, and upward soar,
And leave it quiet as before.

N. P. WILLIS.