237. ATTAINMENT. Mockery of

And blood applied to greatness, is alone

Inherited, not purchased, nor our own :
THERE are hopes

Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth
Promising well; and love-touch'd dreams for some; Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.
And passions, many a wild one ; and fair schemes

Quarles. For gold and pleasure-yet will only this

240. AUTHOR. Fame of the Balk not the soul-Ambition only gives, Even of bitterness, a beaker full !

He hath built up, glorious architect, a monument Friendship is but a slow-awaking dream,

more durable than brass ; Troubled at best-Love is a lamp unseen,

His children's children shall talk of him in love, and Burning to waste, or, if its light is found,

teach their sons his honour; Nursed for an idle hour, then idly broken

His dignity hath set him among princes; the Gain is a grovelling care, and Folly tires,

universe is debtor to his worth ; And Quiet is a hunger never fed

His privilege is blessing for ever, his happiness And from Love's very bosom, and from Gain,

shineth now, Or Foliy, or a Friend, or from Repose,

For he standeth of that grand Election, each man From all but keen Ambition-will the soul

one among a thousand, Snatch the first moment of forgetfulness

Whose sound is gone out unto all the lands, and To wander like a restless child away.

their words to the end of the world. — Tupper. Oh, if there were not better hopes than theseWere there no palm beyond a feverish fame

241. AUTHORS. Rules for If the proud wealth flung back upon the heart Must canker in its coffer-if the links

To write what may securely stand the test Falsehood hath broken will unite no more

Of being well read over thrice at least, If the deep-yearning love, that hath not found

Compare each phrase, examine ev'ry line, Its like in the cold world, must waste in tears

Weigh ev'ry word, and ev'ry thought refine. If truth, and fervour, must return

Pope. And die of their own fulness-if beyond

Make the proper use of each extreme, The grave there is no heaven in whose wide air

And write with fury, but correct with phlegm. The spirit may find room, and in the love

Roscommon. Of whose bright habitants the lavish heart May spend itself-what thrice-mock'd fools are we !

242. AUTHORS: their vanity. N. P. Willis.

Every busy little scribbler now

Swells with the praises which he gives himself, 238. ATTRACTION : reversed.

And, taking sanctuary in the crowd, Chains of my heart, avaunt, I say;

Brags of his impudence, and scorns to mend. I will arise, and in the strength of love

Roscommon. Pursue the bright track, ere it fade away,

243. AUTHORSHIP. Benefit of My Saviour's pathway to His home above.

It addeth immortality to dying facts, that are ready Sure, when I reach the point where earth

to vanish away, Melts into nothing from the uncumbered sight, Embalming as in amber the poor insects of an hour ; Heaven will o'ercome the attraction of my birth, Shedding upon stocks and stones the tender light of And I shall sink in yonder sea of light.-Keble.

interest,

And illuming dark places of the earth with radiance 239. ATTRACTIONS. Earthly

of classic lustre.

It hath power to make past things present, and FAREWELL, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles;

availeth for the present in the future, Farewell, ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles :

Delivering thoughts, and words, and deeds, from the Fame's but a hollow echo; gold, pure clay;

outer darkness of oblivion.-M. F. Tupper. Honour, the darling but of one short day ; Beauty, the idol, but a damask'd skin ;

244. AUTHORITY. A little brief State, but a golden prison to live in, And tortare free-born minds; embroider'd trains, Isabel.

Oh! it is excellent Merely but pageants for proud-swelling veins ; To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous

This year a reservoir, to keep and spare ;

Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffice," The next a fountain, spouting through his heir, Whose greedy lust did lack in greatest store, In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, Whose need had end, but no end covetise, And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst. Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him

Pope.

poor,

Who had enough, yet wished evermore. -Spenser. 252. AVARICE: in the young.

When I was blind, my son, I did miscall YOUNG men to imitate all ills are prone,

My sordid vice of avarice, true thrift. But are compell'd to avarice alone;

But now forget that lesson, I prithee do. For then in virtue's shape they follow vice. That cos’ning vice, although it seems to keep

Dryden. Our wealth, debars us from possessing it,

And makes us more than poor.-May. 253. AVARICE : insatiable.

Who, lord of millions, trembles for his store, CANST thou tell me what is insatiable ?

And fears to give a farthing to the poor ;
The greedy eye of avarice!

Proclaims that penury will be his fate,
Were all the universe a loaded table,

And, scowling, looks on charity with hate.
It never, never could fill this !-Oriental.

Wolcott.

The more we have, the meaner is our store ; 254. AVARICE: Man's last vice.

The unenjoying craving wretch is poor.-Creech. The lust of gold succeeds the lust of conquest :

He turns with anxious heart and crippled hands The lust of gold, unfeeling and remorseless !

His bonds of debt and mortgages of lands; The last corruption of degenerate man.

Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, When all sins are old in us,

Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. And go upon crutches, covetousness

Johnson. Does but then lie in her cradle.- Decker.

256. AVARICE. Offerings of The love of gold, that meanest rage

Thou hop'st with sacrifice of oxen slain And latest folly of man's sinking age,

To compass wealth, and bribe the god of gain, Which rarely venturing in the van of life,

To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase ; While nobler passions wage their heated strife,

Fool! to expect them from a bullock's grease! • Comes skulking last, with selfishness and fear,

And think'st that when the fatten'd flames aspire, And dies collecting lumber in the rear.-Moore.

Thou seest the accomplishment of thy desire !

Now, now my bearded harvest gilds the plain, 255. AVARICE. Misery of

The scanty folds can scarce my sheep contain,

And showers of gold come pouring in amain! AND greedy avarice by him did ride

Thus dreams the wretch, and vainly thus dreams on, Upon a camell loaden all with gold;

Till his lank purse declares his money gone. Two iron coffers hang on either side,

O souls in whom no heavenly fire is found, With precious metall full as they might hold, Fat minds, and ever grovelling on the ground ! And in his lap an heap of coin he told ;

We bring our manners to the blest abodes, For of his wicked pelf his god he made,

And think what pleases us must please the gods. And into hell himself for money sold;

Persius, tr. by Dryden. Accursed usury was all his trade,

And right and wrong ylike in equall balance waide, 257. AVARICE. Peril of His life was nigh unto death's dore yplaste;

| Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil, And thread-bare cote and cobbled shoes he ware,

Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dim. He scarce good morsell all his life did taste,

To all things else. Wealth is the conjurer's devil, Bat both from backe and belly still did spare,

Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. To fill his bags, and richesse to compare :

Gold thou mayst safely touch ; but if it stick Yet child nor kinsman living had he none,

Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick.
To leave them to; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to lose his own,

What skills it if a bag of stones, or gold,
He led a wretched life unto himselfe unknown. 1 About thy neck do drown thee? raise thy head;

Take stars for money ; stars not to be told

262. BABY. Burial of a By any art, yet to be purchased.

TO-DAY we cut the fragrant sod, None is so wasteful as the scraping dame :

With trembling hands, asunder,
She loseth three for one-her soul, rest, fame.

And lay this well-beloved of God,
George Herbert.

Our dear, dead baby under. 58. AVARICE: praised.

O hearts that ache, and ache afresh!

O tears too blindly raining! The base wretch who hoards up all he can

Our hearts are weak, yet, being flesh,
Is praised, and call'd a careful, thrifty man.

Too strong for our restraining !
Dryden.

Sleep, darling, sleep! Cold rain shall steep 259. AVARICE. Slavery of

Thy little turf-made dwelling; When thou wouldst take a lazy morning's nap,

Thou wilt not know, so far below, Up, up, says Avarice; thou snor'st again,

What winds or storms are swelling; Stretchest thy limbs, and yawn'st, but all in vain :

And birds shall sing in the warm spring,

And flowers bloom about thee :
The tyrant Lucre no denial takes ;
At his command the unwilling sluggard wakes :

Thou wilt not heed them, love ; but oh,

The loneliness without thee!
What must I do? he cries : What? says his lord:
Why rise, make ready, and go straight aboard :

Father, we will be comforted !
With fish, from Euxine seas, thy vessel freight;

Thou wast the gracious Giver ; Flax, castor, Coan wines, the precious weight

We yield her up, not dead, not dead, Of pepper, and Sabæan incense, take

To dwell with Thee for ever! With thy own hands from the tired camel's back ;

Take Thou our child, ours for a day, And with post-haste thy running markets make.

Thine while the ages blossom! Be sure to turn the penny : lie and swear ;

This little shining head we lay 'Tis wholesome sin : but Jove, thou say'st, will hear;

In the Redeemer's bosom!
Swear, fool, or starve ; for the dilemma's even :
A tradesman thou ! and hope to go to heaven?

263. BABE. Death of a
Persius, tr. by Dryden.

She had seen

All of earth's year except the winter's snows, • 260. AVERSION. Isolation of

Spring, summer, autumn, like sweet dreams, had Ir needs not guards in front and rear to keep the smiled crowd away;

On her. Eva-or living—was her name; Aversion to the vulgar throng will hold them all at A bud of life folded in leaves and love ; bay.-Oriental.

The dewy morning-star of summer days;

The golden lamp of happy fire-side hours; 261. AWAKING AFTER DEATH. The

The little ewe-lamb nestling by our side;

The dove whose cooing echo'd in our hearts ; In what a strange bewilderment do we

The sweetest chord upon our harp of praise ; Awake each morn from out the brief night's sleep. | The quiet spring, the rivulet of joy ;

Our struggling consciousness doth grope and creep | The pearl among His gifts who gave us all ; Its slow way back, as if it could not free

On whom not we alone, but all who look'd, Itself from bonds unseen. Then memory,

Gazing would breathe the involuntary words, Like sudden light, outflashes from its deep

"God bless thee, Eva-God be bless'd for thee.' The joy or grief which it had last to keep

Alas, clouds gather'd quickly, and the storm For us ; and by the joy or grief we see

Fell without warning on our tender bud, The new day dawneth like the yesterday;

Scattering its leaflets; and the star was drench'd We are unchanged ; our life the same we knew In tears ; the lamp burnt dimly ; unawares Before. I wonder if this is the way

The little lamb was faint ; the weary dove We wake from death's short sleep, to struggle Cower'd its young head beneath its drooping wing; through

The chord was loosen'd on our harp; the fount A brief bewilderment, and in dismay,

Was troubled, and the rill ran nearly dry; Behold our life unto our old life true.

| And in our souls we heard our Father, saying, Helen Hunt. Will ye return the gift?' The Voice was low

The answer lower still — Thy will be done.' Win back the soul that His fair path forsook,
And now, where we had often pictured her,

And mighty and eternal is the gain.
I saw her one of the beatified,
In Paradise ; our treasure was with God;

266. BACKSLIDER'S RETURN. The The gift in the great Giver's strong right hand;

I COME, O Lord, to Thee ; And none who look'd on her could choose but say,

In sad and grievous thought I hear Thy call, * Eva, sweet angel, God be bless'd for thee.'

E. H. Bickerstath.

And I must come, or else from Thee I fall

Deeper in misery. 264. BABE. Departure of a

I have not kept Thy word,
It came upon us by degrees :

And yet Thou biddest me to taste Thy love ;
We saw its shadow ere it fell,

Shaming my faithless heart, that e'er could rove
The knowledge that our God had sent

From Thee, O gracious Lord !
His messenger for Babie Bell

Shame wraps my heart around,
We shudder'd with unlanguaged pain,

Like morning gloom upon the mountains spread ;
And all our hopes were changed to fears,

Indignant memory, avenger dread,
And all our thoughts ran into tears,

Deepens each restless wound.
Like sunshine into rain.
We cried aloud in our belief,

Yet must I come to Thee !
"O smite us gently, gently, God!

Thou hast the words of life, and Thou alone;
Teach us to bend and kiss the rod,

Thou sitt'st upon the Mediator's throne :
And perfect grow through grief.'

Where should a sinner flee?
Ah, how we loved her, God can tell ;

Whom didst Thou turn away?
Her heart was folded deep in ours.

From what distress was hid Thy pitying face ?
Our hearts are broken, Babie Bell!

What cold rebuke e'er check'd the cry for grace ?
At last he came, the messenger,

Can I unheeded pray?
The messenger from unseen lands :

Thomas W. Webb.
And what did dainty Babie Bell?

267. BAD TEMPERS.
She only cross'd her little hands,
She only look'd more meek and fair!

Of all bad things by which mankind are cursed,
We parted back her silken hair,

Their own bad tempers surely are the worst.

Cumberland.
We wove the roses round her brow-
White buds, the summer's drifted snow-

268. BANISHMENT. An Epilogue.
Wrapt her from head to foot in flowers !
And thus went dainty Babie Bell

On a fair ship, borne swiftly o'er the deep,
Out of this world of ours.-T. B. Aldrich. A man was lying, wrapp'd in dreamless sleep;

When unawares upon a sunken rock 263. BACKSLIDERS: how they are to be treated.

That vessel struck, and shatter'd with the shock.

But strange! the plank where lay the sleeper bore LOOK thou with pity on a brother's fall,

Him, wrapt in deep sleep ever, to the shore. And dwell not with stern anger on his fault;

Sweet tones first woke him from his sleep, when The grace of God alone holds thee, holds all ;

round Were that withdrawn, thou too would'st swerve His couch observant multitudes he found : and halt.

All haild him then, and did before him bow, Lead back the wanderer to the Saviour's fold; And with one voice exclaim'd-Our king art thou.' That were an action worthy of a saint;

With jubilant applause they bore him on, Bat not in malice let the crime be told,

And set him wondering on a royal throne. Yor publish to the world the evil taint.

Much he rejoiced, and he had well-nigh now

Forgotten whence he hither came, and how ; The Saviour suffers when His children slide ;

Until at eve, of homage weary grown, Tben is His holy name by men blasphemed,

He craved a season to be left alone. And He afresh is mock'd and crucified

Alone in hall magnificent he sate, . Even by those His bitter death redeem'd.

And mused upon the wonder of his fate ; Rebuke the sin, but yet in love rebuke,

When lo! an aged counsellor, a seer, Feel as one member in another's pain;

| Before unnoticed, to the king drew near :