BLINDNESS.

(Milton's Complaint of)

Thee I revisit safe,

And feel thy sov'reign vital lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs,
Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander, where the Muses haunt
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill.---
Thus with the year

Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with an universal blank

Of nature's works, to me expung'd and ras'd,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, celestial Light,
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.

BLISS. (Human, small)

Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small; And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Some spot to real happiness consign'd;

MILTON.

Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.

B

GOLDSMITH.

BLUNTNESS. (Affected)

This is some fellow,

Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb,

Quite from his nature:

He cannot flatter, he!An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth: An' if they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, Than twenty silly ducking observants, That stretch their duties nicely.

SHAKESPEARE,

BOASTING. (Of Youth)

I'll hold thee any wager,

When we are both accouter'd like young men,
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
And wear my dagger with the braver grace;
And speak, between the change of man and boy,
With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps
Into a manly stride; and speak of frays,
Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies,
How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died;
I could not do with all ;-then I'll repent,

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them:
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell,

That men shall swear, I have discontinued school Above a twelvemonth.

SHAKESPEARE.

BODIES. (Heavenly, Regularity of)

Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here; Thro' this illustrious chaos, to the sight, Arrangement neat, and chastest order reign. The path prescrib'd, inviolably kept,

Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind :
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere;
They rove for ever, without error rove:
Confusion unconfus'd! nor less admire
This tumult untumultuous; all on wing,
In motion all! yet what profound repose!
What fervid action, yet no noise! as aw'd
To silence by the presence of their Lord.

BROTHERS. (Affection for)

YOUNG.

Where'er 1 roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags, at each remove, a lengthening chain. GOLDSMITH.

BUFO. (Character of)

Proud, as Apollo on his forked hill, Sat full-blown Bufo, puff'd by ev'ry quill; Fed with soft dedication all day long, Horace and he went hand in hand in song, His library (where busts of poets dead And a true Pindar stood without a head) Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race, Who first his judgment ask'd, and then a place: Much they extoll'd his pictures, much his seat, And flatter'd every day, and some days eat: Till grown more frugal in his riper days, He paid some bards with port, and some with praise; To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd; And others (harder still) he paid in kind. Dryden alone (what wonder!) came not nigh; Dryden alone escap'd this judging eye: But still the great have kindness in reserve; He help'd to bury whom he help'd to starve.

POPE.

BURKE. (Character of)

Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,

We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat,

To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote;
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing, while they thought of
dining.

Though equal to all things, for all things unfit,
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit;
For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient,
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.
In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, Sir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
GOLDSMITH.

CALIBAN. (His Curses)

As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on ye both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er!

I must eat my dinner.

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest first,

Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st give me

Water with berries in't; and teach me how

To name the bigger light, and how the less,

That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,

And show'd the all thee qualities o' the isle,

The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fertile;

Cursed be I that did so!-All the charms

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,

Which first was mine own king: and here you sty

me

In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the island.

SHAKESPEARE.

CAMP. (Night in a Camp)

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,

The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch :
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,

Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

So tediously away. The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad, Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,