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-"And thee would I congratulate, my 'son,
Much, O my Prince, my words have thee distrest,
stand Helps for the future many at thy command ; Then, whilst thou canst, employ them to adorn That island whither thou must once be borne. Unbuilt and waste and barren now that strand, And gush no fountains from the thirsty sand. So when the world, which speaks thee now so fair, And flatters so, again shall strip thee bare, And drive thee naked forth in harshest wise, Thou joyfully wilt seek thy paradise.' Then raised the Prince his head with courage new, And what the sage advised, prepared to do. He ruled his realm with meekness, and meanwhile He marvellously deck'd the chosen isle ; Bade there his servants build up royal towers, And change its barren sands to leafy bowers; Bade fountains there be hewn, and caused to bloom Immortal amaranths, shedding rich perfume. And when he long enough had kept his throne, To him sweet odours from that isle were blown : Then knew he that its gardens blooming were, And all the yearnings of his soul were there. Grief was it not to him, but joy, when they His crown and sceptre bade him quit one day; When him his servants rudely did dismiss, 'Twas not the sentence of his ended bliss, But pomp and power he cheerfully forsook, And to his isle a willing journey took,
There is nothing left of me :
If all my strength were shown, So small the amount would be,
Its presence could scarce be known. Fighting alone to-night,
With not even a stander-by To cheer me on in the fight,
Or to hear me when I cry. Only the Lord can hear,
Only the Lord can see The struggle within how dark and drear,
Though quiet the outside be. Fighting alone to-night,
With what a sinking heart ! Lord Jesus, in the fight,
Oh stand not Thou apart ! Body and mind have tried
To make the field mine own; But when the Lord is on my side,
He doeth the work alone.
And when He hideth His face,
And the battle-clouds prevail, It is only through His grace
If I do not utterly fail.
The word of old was true,
And its truth shall never cease, – "The Lord shall fight for you,
And ye shall hold your peace.'
Lord, I would fain be still
And quiet behind my shield; But make me to love Thy will,
For fear I should ever yield.
For when, to destroy my foes,
Thou lettest them strike at me,
That joy may the purer be,
And love of Thy perfect will,
And bid my fears lie still.
So doth my folded will
Without one anxious thrill.
My hands unfold and clasp,
And taketh its old firm grasp.
And fill my heart with Thy love;
F. W. Faber. 270. BATTLE. The Christian's How goes the fight with thee?
The life-long battle with all evil things? Thine no low strife, and thine no selfish aim;
It is the war of giants and of kings. Does it grow slacker now?
Then tremble ; for, be sure, thy hellish foe Slacks not ; 'tis thou that slackest in the fight;
Fainter and feebler falls each weary blow. What though ten thousand faint,
Desert, or yield, or in weak terror flee ! Heed not the panic of the multitude ;
Thine be the Captain's watchword, — Victory! Look to thine armour well!
Thine the one panoply no blow that fears ; Ours is the day of rusted swords and shields,
Of loosen'd helmets and of broken spears. Heed not the throng of foes !
To fight ’gainst hosts is still the Church's lot. Side thou with God, and thou must win the day ;
Woe to the man 'gainst whom hell fighteth not ! Say not the fight is long :
'Tis but one battle and the fight is o'er ; No second warfare mars thy victory,
And the one triumph is for evermore.—Bonar.
As rising on its purple wing
274. BEAUTY : easily impaired.
A NIGHT of fretful passion may consume
Stand up! Stand up for Jesus !
The strife will not be long;
Beauty's a slippery good, which decreaseth
The eye with a celestial blue—the cheek Whilst it is increasing : resembling the
With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe Medlar, which, in the moment of his full
Grace into every motion, like the play Ripeness, is known to be in a rottenness.
Of the least visible tissue of a cloud: Whilst you look in the glass, it waxeth old
She may give all that is within her own With time ; if on the sun, parch'd with heat ; if Bright cestus—and one glance of intellect, On the wind, blasted with cold. A great care Like stronger magic, will outshine it all. - Willis. To keep it, a short space to enjoy it, A sudden time to lose it. -Lilly.
277. BEAUTY : in what it consists. Trust not too much to that enchanting face;
What is beauty? Not the show Beauty's a charm, but soon the charm will pass.
Of shapely limbs and features. No:
These are but flowers Do not idolatrize ; beauty's a flower,
That have their dated hours, Which springs and withers almost in an hour.
To breathe their momentary sweets, then go. William Smith.
'Tis the stainless soul within Beauty, sweet love! is like the morning dew,
That outshines the fairest skin.—Hunt. Whose short refresh upon the tender green
What is true beauty but fair virtue's face, Cheers for a time,-but till the sun doth show,
Virtue made visible in outward grace ?- Young. And straight is gone as it had never been.
What's female beauty, but an air divine, Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit, Through which the mind's all gentle graces shine ? That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, They, like the sun, irradiate all between ; And gives it a new pulse unknown before ! The body charms, because the soul is seen. The grave discredits thee : thy charms expunged, Hence men are often captives of a face, Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace : What hast thou more to boast of? will thy lovers Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can bear, Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage? Some, none resist, though not exceeding fair. Methinks I see thee with thy head laid low;
Young Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek, The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd,
278. BEAUTY : its decay inevitable. Riots unscared. For this was all thy caution ?
SINCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, For this thy painful labours at thy glass,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, T'improve those charms and keep them in repair, How with this rage shall Beauty hold a plea, For which the spoiler thanks thee not ? Foul
Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? feeder!
0, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well,
Against the wreckful siege of battering days, And leave as keen a relish on the sense.
Where rocks impregnable are not so stout, Beautiful, yes ! but the blush will fade,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays ? The light grow dim which the blue eyes wear,
O fearful meditation! Where, alack, The gloss will vanish from curl and braid,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid ? And the sunbeam die in the waving hair.
Or what strong hand can hold his swift book back ? Turn from the mirror, and strive to win
Or who his spoil of Beauty can forbid ? Treasures of loveliness still to last;
Shakespeare. Gather earth's glory and bloom within,
279. BEAUTY : its perils. That the soul may be bright when youth is past.
Mrs Osgood. BEAUTY, like the fair Hesperian tree, 276. BEAUTY : excelled.
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, BEAUTY is excell'd by manly grace,
To save her blossoms and defend her fruit And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.-Milton.
From the rash hand of bold incontinence.
Milton. Beauty gives The features perfectness, and to the form Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray ; Its delicate proportions : she may stain
Who can tread sure on the smooth slipp'ry way?
Pleased with the passage, we glide swiftly on, 285. BEAUTY. Realm of
For beauty hideth everywhere, that Reason's child
may seek her, O fatal beauty! why art thou bestow'd
And having found the gem of price, may set it in On hapless woman still to make her wretched ?
God's crown. Betray'd by thee, how many are undone !
There is beauty in the rolling clouds, and placid Patterson.
shingle beach, 280. BEAUTY : its power.
In feathery snows and whistling winds, and dun Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure
electric skies; The sense of man, and all his mind possess,
There is beauty in the rounded woods, dank with As beauty's lovely bait, that doth procure
heavy foliage, Great warriors oft their rigour to repress ;
In laughing fields, and dinted hills, the valley and And mighty hands forget their manliness,
its lake ; Drawp with the power of an heart-robbing eye, There is beauty in the gullies, beauty on the cliffs, And wrapt in fetters of a golden tress,
beauty in sun and shade, That can with melting pleasaunce mollify
In rocks and rivers, seas and plains,-the earth is Their harden'd hearts, inured to blood and cruelty.
drown'd in beauty. — Tupper.
Spenser. 281. BEAUTY. Joy of
286. BEAUTY. Truth and A THING of beauty is a joy for ever :
Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, Its loveliness increases; it will never
The lovely mistress of Truth and Good Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
In this dark world; for Truth and Good are one A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. With like participation. Wherefore, then,
Keats. O sons of earth, would ye dissolve the tie? 282. BEAUTY. Lost
O wherefore, with a rash, impetuous aim,
Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand BEAUTY is but a vain and doubtful good, Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly,
Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud ; Where is the sanction of eternal Truth,
A brittle glass, that's broken presently : Or where the seal of undeceitful good, A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, To save your search from folly! wanting these, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace, And as good lost is seldom or never found,
And with the glittering of an idiot's toy
Did fancy mock your vows.- Akenside.
287. BEAUTY : typical.
BEAUTY was lent to nature as the type In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
Of heaven's unspeakable and holy joy,
Shakespeare. Where all perfection makes the sum of bliss. 283. BEAUTY. Modest
Mrs Hale. As lamps burn silent with unconscious light,
288. BEAUTY : unadorned. So modest ease in beauty shines most bright;
A NATIVE grace Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall,
Sat fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, And she who means no mischief does it all.
Veild in a simple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness 284. BEAUTY : not to be despised.
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most. Is beauty vain because it will fade?
Thomson, Then are earth's green robe and heaven's light
289. BEAUTY. Youthful vain ; For this shall be lost in evening's shade,
Lo! when the buds expand, the leaves are green, And that in winter's sleety rain. — Pierpont. Then the first opening of the flower is seen ;
Then come the honey'd breath and rosy smile,
And Merciful One, for thee I wait!'
! He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state,
B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
P. Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This man possess'd-five hundred pounds a year. Blush, grandeur, blush ; proud courts, withdraw
your blaze! Ye little stars, hide your diminish'd rays !
B. And what ! no monument, inscription, stone ? His race, his form, his name, almost unknown ?
P. Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name : Go, search it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history; Enough that virtue fill'd the space between, Proved by the ends of being to have been. —Pope. 292. BETHESDA.
AROUND Bethesda's healing wave,
Waiting to hear the rustling wing
Its virtue to that holy spring,
Had often seen the waters stirr’d, -
The bitter sigh of hope deferr'd ;
No angel, by his glad descent,
Which with its healing waters went :
As when that healing word was spoke ;
Dwells power to burst the strongest yoke!
291. BENEFICENCE. Monument of But all our praises why should lords engross? Rise, honest muse! and sing the Man of Ross ; Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow ? From the dry rock who bade the waters flow? Not to the skies in useless columns tost, Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ? *The Man of Ross!' each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread ;