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-"And thee would I congratulate, my 'son,
Who hast thy reign in happy hour begun;
Seen hast thou the beginning, -yet attend,
While I shall also show to thee the end.
That this new fortune doth not blind thee quite,
Both sides regard, the darker with the bright;
Heed what so many who have ruled before,
Failing to heed, now rue for evermore.
Though sure thy state and strong thy throne appear,
King only art thou for a season here ;
A time is fix'd, albeit unknown to thee,
Which, when it comes, thou banish'd hence shalt be.
Round this fair spot, though hidden from the eye
By mist and vapour, many islands lie :
Bare are their coasts, and dreary and forlorn,
And unto them the banish'd kings are borne ;
On each of these an exiled king doth mourn,
For when a new king comes, they bear away
The old, whom now no vassals more obey.

Much, O my Prince, my words have thee distrest,
Thy head has sunk in sorrow on thy breast;
Yet idle sorrow helps not-I will show
A nobler way, which shall true help bestow.
This counsel take-to others given in vain,
While no belief from them my words might gain.
Know then, whilst thou art monarch here, there

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.

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For when, to destroy my foes,

Thou lettest them strike at me,
And fillest my heart with woes,

That joy may the purer be,
Nothing but perfect trust,

And love of Thy perfect will,
Can raise me out of the dust,

And bid my fears lie still.
Even as now my bands,

So doth my folded will
Lie waiting Thy commands,

Without one anxious thrill.
But as, with sudden pain,

My hands unfold and clasp,
So doth my will start up again,

And taketh its old firm grasp.
Lord, fix mine eyes upon Thee,

And fill my heart with Thy love;
And keep my soul till the shadows flee,
And the light breaks from above.

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
The insect queen of eastern spring,
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmere,
Invites the young pursuer near,
And leads him on from flower to flower,
A weary chase and wasted hour,
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye:
So beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright and wing as wild ;
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears. -Byron.

274. BEAUTY : easily impaired.

A NIGHT of fretful passion may consume
All that thou hast of beauty's gentle bloom ;
And one distemper'd hour of sordid fear
Print on thy brow the wrinkles of a year.

275. BEAUTY : evanescent.
BEAUTY, my lord, 'tis the worst part of woman,
A weak poor thing, assaulted ev'ry hour
By creeping minutes of defacing time;
A superficies, which each breath of care
Blasts off ; and ev'ry hum'rous stream of grief,
Which flows from forth those fountains of our eyes,
Washeth away, as rain doth winter's snow


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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
And see the dangers which we cannot shun.


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.
As fading gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,

287. BEAUTY : typical.
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So Beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost,

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,
Aaron Hill,

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,
That with their sweets the willing sense beguile;
But as we look, and love, and taste, and praise,
And the fruit grows, the charming flower decays ;
Till all is gather'd, and the wintry blast
Moans o'er the place of love and pleasure past.
So 'tis with Beauty, -such the opening grace
And dawn of glory in the youthful face;
Then there are charms unfolded to the sight,
Then all is loveliness and all delight;
The nuptial tie succeeds, the genial hour,
And, lo! the falling off of Beauty's flower ;
So through all Nature is the progress made-
The bud, the bloom, the fruit—and then we fade.

290. BENEFICENCE. Example of
The pilgrim and stranger, who, through the day,
Holds over the desert his trackless way,
Where the terrible sands no shade have known,
No sound of life save the camel's moan,
Hears, at last, through the mercy of Allah to all,
From his tent-door, at evening, the Bedouin's call :
“Whoever thou art, whose need is great,
In the name of God, the Compassionate

And Merciful One, for thee I wait!'
For gifts, in His name, of food and rest,
The tents of Islam of God are blest.
Thou, who hast faith in the Christ above,
Shall the Koran teach thee the Law of Love?
O Christian !-open thy heart and door,-
Cry, east and west, to the wandering poor-
“Whoever thou art, whose need is great,
In the name of Christ, the Compassionate
And Merciful One, for thee I wait!'


! He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state,
Where age and want sit smiling at the gate:
Him portion d maids, apprenticed orphans blest,
The young who labour, and the old who rest.
Is any sick ? the Man of Ross relieves,
: Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes and gives.
Is there a variance? enter but his door,
Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more.
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile attorneys, now a useless race.

B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the power to do!
O say, what sums that generous hand supply?
What mines to swell that boundless charity ?

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
Which spoke the angel nigh, who gave

Its virtue to that holy spring,
With patience and with hope endued,
Were seen the gather'd multitude.
Among them there was one whose eye

Had often seen the waters stirr’d, -
Whose heart had often heaved the sigh,

The bitter sigh of hope deferr'd ;
Until the Saviour's love was shown,
Which heal'd him by a word alone!
Bethesda's pool has lost its power!

No angel, by his glad descent,
Dispenses that diviner dower

Which with its healing waters went :
But He, whose word surpass'd its wave,
Is still omnipotent to save.
Saviour, Thy love is still the same

As when that healing word was spoke ;
Still in Thine all-redeeming name

Dwells power to burst the strongest yoke!
Oh, be that power, that love, display'd ;
Help those whom Thou alone canst aid !

Bernard Barton

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 ;

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