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Some weep to share the fame of the deceas'd,
So high in merit, and to them so dear:

They dwell on praises, which they think they share. Some mourn in proof that something they could love.

They weep not to relieve their grief, but show.
Some weep in perfect justice to the dead,
As conscious all their love is in arrear.
Some mischievously weep, not unappriz'd,
Tears, sometimes, aid the conquest of an eye.
As seen through crystal, how their roses glow,
While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek.
By kind construction some are deem'd to weep,
Because a decent veil conceals their joy.

YOUNG.

TENTS. (Of an Army, their Effect)

Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, Where all was waste and silent yesterday ? This city of war which, in a few short hours, Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star, Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar, Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see, This world of tents and domes and sun-bright armory!.

But yester eve, so motionless around

So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound
But the far torrent, or the locust-bird

Hunting among the thickets, could be heard;
Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind,
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the
wind!

The neigh of cavalry-the tinkling throngs
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs ;-
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ;→→→→→

War-music, bursting out from time to time
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime.

TEVIOT.

Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide,

The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore;
Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,

As if thy waves, since time was born,
Since first they rolled their way to Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
Nor started at the bugle-horn.
Unlike the tide of human time,

MOORE.

Which, though it change in ceaseless flow,
Retains each grief, retains each crime,
Its earliest course was doomed to know;
And, darker as it downward bears,

Is stained with past and present tears.

THAMES.

And thy stream, O Thames,

SCOTT.

Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry forest, groves of mast
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between
Possess'd the breezy void: the sooty hulk
Steer'd sluggish on; the splendid barge along
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around,

The boat, light-skimming, stretch'd its oary wings;
While deep the various voice of fervent toil

From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with oak,

To bear the British thunder, black, and bold,
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main.

THAMES.

THOMSON.

My eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays.
Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs ;

Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.

O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it

my theme!

Tho' deep, yet clear; tho' gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.

THEOLOGY.

DENHAM.

(The World a System of)

The world's a system of theology,

Read by the greatest strangers to the schools,
If honest, learn'd; and sages o'er a plough.

THINGS. (Little, great to Man)

YOUNG.

Say, should the philosophic mind disdain That good which makes each humbler bosom vain ? Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, These little things are great to little man.

THOUGHT.

GOLDSMITH.

(Its Difference from Reverie)

Thought, to the man that never thinks, may seem As natural as when asleep to dream;

But reveries (for human minds will act)
Specious in show, impossible in fact,

Those flimsy webs, that break as soon as wrought,
Attain not to the dignity of thought:

Nor yet the swarms, that occupy the brain, Where dreams of dress, intrigue, and pleasure reign:

Nor such as useless conversation breeds,

Or lust engenders, and indulgence feeds.

Whence, and what are we? to what end ordain'd?
What means the drama by the world sustain'd?
Business or vain amusement, care or mirth,
Divide the frail inhabitants of earth.
Is duty a mere sport, or an employ ?
Life an intrusted talent, or a toy?

COWPER.

THOUGHTS. (To be well guarded)

Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more. Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint; 'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer ; Guard well thy thoughts; our thoughts are heard in heaven.

On all-important time, thro' every age,

Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urg'd; the

man

Is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour.

"I've lost a day"-the prince who nobly cry'd, Had been an emperor without his crown.

YOUNG.

THOUGHT. (Painful, to be Avoided)

But 'tis not thought (for still the soul's employ'd), 'Tis painful thinking, that corrodes our clay. All day the vacant eye without fatigue

Strays o'er the heaven and earth; but long intent
On miscroscopic arts its vigour fails.

Just so the mind, with various thought amus'd,
Nor aches itself, nor gives the body pain.
But anxious study, discontent, and care,

Love without hope, and hate without revenge,
And fear, and jealousy, fatigue the soul,
Engross the subtle ministers of life,

And spoil the lab'ring functions of their share.
Hence the lean gloom that melancholy wears,
The lover's paleness, and the sallow hue
Of envy, jealousy, the meagre stare
Of sore revenge: the canker'd body hence
Betrays each fretful motion of the mind.

The strong built pedant, who, both night and day

Feeds on the coarsest fare the schools bestow,
And crudely fattens at gross Burman's stall;
O'erwhelm'd with phlegm lies in a dropsy drown'd,
Or sinks in lethargy before his time.

THRESHER.

ARMSTRONG.

Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms
We may discern the thresher at his task.
Thump after thump resounds the constant flail,
That seems to swing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the destin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff,
The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, sparkling in the noonday beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And sleep not; see him sweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it. 'Tis the primal curse,
But soften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.

COWPER.

TIME (Fashionable way of Spending)
To rise at noon, sit slipshod and undress'd,
To read the news, or fiddle, as seems best,
Till half the world comes rattling at his door,
To fill the dull vacuity till four;

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