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Where'er these casual eyes are cast,

356. BOOKS: their ends. The mighty minds of old ;

Books should to one of these four ends conduce : My never-failing friends are they,

For wisdom, piety, delight, or use. Denham. With whom I converse night and day.

Southey.

357. BOOKS : their influence. 353. BOOKS. Pleasure of

Books are not seldom talismans and spells,

Cowper. Give me Leave to enjoy myself. That place that does

358. BOOKS: their ministry. Contain my books, the best companions, is DREAMS, books, are each a world ; and books, we To me a glorious court, where hourly I

know, Converse with the old sages and philosophers ; Are a substantial world, both pure and good : And sometimes for variety I confer

Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels; blood, Calling their victories, if unjustly got,

Our pastime and our happiness will grow. Unto a strict account; and in my fancy

Wordsworth. Deface their ill-placed statues. Can I then Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace

We never speak our deepest feelings ;

Our holiest hopes have no revealings, Uncertain vanities? No: be it your care

Save in the gleams that light the face, To augment a heap of wealth: it shall be mine

Or fancies that the pen may trace. To increase in knowledge.-Fletcher.

And hence to books the heart must turn

When with unspoken thoughts we yearn, 354. BOOKS: recall the past.

And gather from the silent page

The just reproof, the counsel sage,
In them, we

The consolation kind and true
Who, but for them, upon that inch of ground

That soothes and heals the wounded heart. We call 'THE PRESENT,' from the cell could see

Mrs Hale. No daylight trembling on the dungeon bar ; Tur, as we list, the globe's great axle round,

359. BOOKS : treasure-houses. Traverse all space, and number every star,

Books are yours, And feel the Near less household than the Far! Within whose silent chambers treasure lies There is no Past, so long as Books shall live!

Preserved from age to age ; more precious far A disintere'd Pompeii wakes again

Than that accumulated store of gold For him who seeks you well; lost cities give

And orient gems which, for a day of need, Up their untarnish'd wonders, and the reign

The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. Of Jove revives and Saturn : at our will

These hoards of truth you can unlock at will. Rise dome and tower on Delphi's sacred hill ;

Wordsworth. Bloom Cimon's trees in Academe ; along Leucadia's headland sighs the Lesbian's song;

360. BOOKWORM. The With Ægypt's Queen once more we sail the Nile, UNCERTAIN and unsettled he remains, And learn how worlds are barter'd for a smile ; Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself. Rise up, ye walls, with gardens blooming o'er,

Milton. Ope bat that page-lo, Babylon once more !

361. BLUNTNESS. Bulwer Lytton.

This is some fellow
The past but lives in words: a thousand ages Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
Were blank, if books had not evoked their ghosts, | A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb,
And kept the pale, unbodied shades to warn us Quite from his nature ; he can't flatter, he !-
From fleshless lips.—Bulwer Lytton.

An honest mind and plain, -- he must speak truth;
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain355. BOOKS : their chief perfections.

ness 'Tis in books the chief

Harbour more craft, and sar corrupter ends, Of all perfections to be plain and brief. Than twenty silly ducking observants,

Butler. That stretch their duty nicely. --Shakespeare.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,

The storm to-day, Which gives men stomach to digest his words

With fury blent, With better appetite. -Shakespeare.

Precedes sunshine to-morrow. I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

Then fly away, Nor actions, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,

Each sombre thought,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on.

To realms of fabled things;
Shakespeare.

Nor let one hope 362. BOUNTY.

Unheeded pass, What you desire of him, he partly begs

Or lose one joy it brings. To be desired to give. It much would please him

Emma Thompson. That of his fortunes you would make a staff To lean upon. --Shakespeare.

366. BROTHERHOOD. Bond of For his bounty,

When a deed is done for Freedom, through the There was no winter in't ; an autumn 'twas,

broad earth's aching breast That grew the more by reaping.–Shakespeare. Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east He that's liberal

to west; To all alike, may do a good by chance,

And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul But never out of judgment.— Beaumont and Fletcher.

within him climb

To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy subSuch moderation with thy bounty join,

lime That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine ;

Of a century bursts full-blossom'd on the thorny That liberality is but cast away,

stem of Time. Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay.

Denham. | Through the walls of hut and palace shoots the in. Large was his bounty and his soul sincere,

stantaneous throe, Heaven did a recompense as largely send ;

Where the travail of the Ages wrings earth's systems He gave to misery all he had-a tear ;-

to and fro;

| At the birth of each new Era, with a recognizing He gain'd from heaven— 'twas all he wish'd-a! friend !-Gray.

start,

Nation wildly looks at nation, standing with mute 363. BRAVE MEN.

lips apart,

And glad Truth's yet mightier man-child leaps beNo, there is a necessity in fate

neath the Future's heart. Why still the brave bold man is fortunate ; He keeps his object ever full in sight,

So the Evil's triumph sendeth, with a terror and a And that assurance holds him firm and right:

chill, True, 'tis a narrow path that leads to bliss,

Under continent to continent, the sense of coming But right before there is no precipice ;

ill, Fear makes men look aside, and so their footing And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels his sympamiss.--Dryden.

thies with God But while hope lives

In hot teardrops ebbing earth ward, to be drunk up Let not the generous die. 'Tis late before

by the sod, The brave despair,--Thomson.

Till a corpse crawls round unburied, delving in the

nobler clod. 364. BREVITY.

For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears Since brevity is the soul of wit,

along, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,

Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of I will be brief. -Shakespeare.

right or wrong;

Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's 365. BROODING OVER TROUBLE : forbid

vast frame den.

Through its ocean-sunder'd fibres feels the gush of IMPRISON not

joy or shame; Within thy breast

In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal Needless germs of sorrow;

claim.---Lowell.

369. BROTHERHOOD. Poet of Who feels that God and Heaven's great deeps are

nearer Him to whose heart his fellow-man is nigh, Who doth not hold his soul's own freedom dearer Than that of all his brethren, low or high ; Who to the Right can feel himself the truer For being gently patient with the wrong, Who sees a brother in the evil-doer, And finds in Love the heart's-blood of his song This, this is he for whom the world is waiting To sing the beatings of its mighty heart; Too long hath it been patient with the grating Of scrannel-pipes, and heard it mis-named Art. To him the smiling soul of man shall listen, Laying awhile its crown of thorns aside, And once again in every eye shall glisten The glory of a nature satisfied. -- Lowell.

367. BROTHERHOOD. Disbelief of man's EARLY from heaven it was reveal'd, and oft Repeated in the world, from pulpits preach'd, And penn'd and read in holy books, that God Respected not the persons of mankind. Had this been truly credited and felt, The king, in purple robe, had own'd, indeed, The beggar for his brother ; pride of rank And office thaw'd into paternal love ; Oppression fear'd the day of equal rights Predicted; covetous extortion kept In mind the hour of reck’ning, soon to come ; And bribed injustice thought of being judged, When he should stand on equal foot beside The man he wrong'd. And surely-nay, 'tis true, Most true, beyond all whispering of doubt, That he, who lifted up the reeking scourge, Dripping with gore from the slave's back, before He struck again, had paused, and seriously Of that tribunal thought, where God Himself Should look him in the face, and ask in wrath, "Why didst thou this? Man! was he not thy brother? Bone of thy bone, and flesh and blood of thine?' Bat ah! this truth, by heaven and reason taught, Was never fully credited on earth. The titled, flatter'd, lofty men of power, Whose wealth bought verdicts of applause for deeds Of wickedness, could ne'er believe the time Should truly come, when judgment should proceed Impartially against them, and they, too, Hare no good speaker at the Judge's ear, No witnesses to bring them off for gold, No power to turn the sentence from its course ; And they of low estate, who saw themselves Day after day, despised, and wrong'd, and mock'd, Without redress, could scarcely think the day Should e'er arrive, when they in truth should stand On perfect level with the potentates And princes of the earth, and have their cause Examined fairly, and their rights allow'd. But now this truth was felt, believed and felt, That men were really of a common stock ; That no man ever had been more than man.

Pollok. 368. BROTHERHOOD. Grounds of Axe we not creatures of one hand Divine,

Form'd in one mould, to one redemption born, Kindred alike, where'er our skies may shine,

Where'er our sight first drank the vital morn? Brothers-one bond around our souls should twine ;

And woe to him by whom that bond is torn, Who mounts by trampling broken hearts to earth, Wbo bows down spirits of immortal birth !

Manzoni.

370. BUILDING. Cautious All are architects of Fate,

Working in these walls of Time ; Some with massive deeds and great,

Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low;

Each thing in its place is best ;
And what seems but idle show

Strengthens and supports the rest.
For the structure that we raise,

Time is with materials fillid;
Our to-days and yesterdays

Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these ;

Leave no yawning gaps between ;
Think not, because no man sees,

Such things will remain unseen.
In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part ;

For the gods see everywhere. Let us do our work as well,

Both the unseen and the seen ; Make the house, where gods may dwell,

Beautiful, entire, and clean ; Else our lives are incomplete,

Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet

Stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure,

With a firm and ample base ; And ascending and secure

Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain

To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky.

Longfellow. 371. BUILDING. Gradual

BY trifles, in our common ways,.

Our characters are slowly piled ; We lose not all our yesterdays;

The man hath something of the child; Part of the Past to all the Present cleaves, As the rose-odours linger in fading leaves.

373. BUILDING. Neglect of

WHATE'ER thou purposest to do,
With an unwearied zeal pursue ;
To-day is thine—improve to-day,
Nor trust to-morrow's distant ray.
A certain man a house would build ;
The place is with materials fill'd;
And everything is ready there-
Is it a difficult affair?
Yes ! till you fix the corner-stone;
It won't erect itself alone.
Day rolls on day, and year on year,
And nothing yet is done-
There's always something to delay
The business to another day.

In ceaseless toil, from year to year,

Working with loath or willing hands, Stone upon stone we shape and rear,

Till the completed fabric stands ; And when the last hush hath all labour stillid, The searching fire will try what we have striven to

build.-W. Morley Punshon.

And thus in silent waiting stood
The piles of stone and piles of wood,
Till Death, who in his vast affairs
Ne'er puts things off, as men do theirs-
And thus, if I the truth must tell,
Does his work finally and well-
Wink'd at our hero as he pass'd,
*Your house is finish'd, sir, at last;
A narrower house-a house of clay-
Your palace for another day!'

Tr. from the Russian by Bowring.

372. BUILDING. Instinctive

The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groin'd the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew ; The conscious stone to beauty grew. Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest Of leaves, and feathers from her breast ? Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, Painting with morn each annual cell ? Or how the sacred pine-tree adds To her old leaves new myriads ? Such and so grew those holy piles, Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, As the best gem upon her zone; And Morning opes with haste her lids, To gaze upon the Pyramids; O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, As on its friends, with kindred eye ; For out of Thought's interior sphere, These wonders rose to upper air ; And Nature gladly gave them place, Adopted them into her race, And granted them an equal date With Andes and with Ararat. These temples grew as grows the grass ; Art might obey, but not surpass ; The passive Master lent his hand To the vast soul that o'er him plann'd.

R. W. Emerson.

374. BURDEN. Help with the Child of my love, “LEAN HARD,' And let me feel the pressure of thy care. I know thy burden, child : I shaped it, Poised it in my own hand, made no proportion In its weight to thine unaided strength; For even as I laid it on I said, I shall be near, and while she leans on me, This burden shall be mine, not hers : So shall I keep my child within the circling arms Of mine own love.' Here lay it down, nor fear To impose it on a shoulder which upholds The government of worlds. Yet closer come; Thou art not near enough, I would embrace thy care So I might feel my child reposing on my breast. Thou lovest me, I know it, doubt not, then ; But loving me-LEAN HARD!

375. BURIAL. Hymn for a Christian's

YE principalities and powers

That never tasted death, Witness from off your heavenly towers

Our act of Christian faith.

Though tears will fall and hearts are stirr'd,

We know in whom we trust;

And confident in His sure word

We bear the dust to dust.'

We sow this seed in earth to die,

In the great Master's name, Type of decay and vanity,

In weakness and in shame. It shall arise a holy shrine

Of glory, beauty, might,
Fit for a spirit made divine ;

All purity, all light.
Thanks be to God, there is no death

For all that trust His word :
Thanks be to God, for victory

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. - Rawson.

376. BURIAL. Sequence of

GATHER up, O earth! thy dead ;
Grass ! thy peaceful pillow spread,
Add another mortal's bed

To the bed where mortals sleep :
Where they sleep-but not to rise
When morn's sunlight clears the skies,
But to rest—while centuries

Their long-during watches keep.

What though now to darkness

We this body give; Soon shall all its senses

Re-awake and live. E'en az duly scatter'd

By the sower's hand In the fading autumn

O'er the fallow land, Nature's seed, decaying,

First in darkness dies,
Ere it can in glory

Renovated rise.
Earth, to thy fond bosom

We this pledge intrust;
Oh! we pray, be careful

Of the precious dust. This was once the mansion

Of a soul endow'd With sublimest powers,

By the breath of God. Here eternal Wisdom

Lately made His home; And again will claim it

In the days to come. O divinest period !

Speed upon thy way; O eternal Justice !

Make no more delay.
When shall love in glory

Its fruition see?
When shall hope be lost in

Immortality ?
Prudentius Clemens, tr. by E. Caswall.

Centuries shall pass away;
Earth shall hasten to decay;
Days will bring of days the day

When the exhausted cycles end ;
Then, earth's every fugitive
Shall appear; the grave shall give
Up its dead, the dead shall live, --

And the Eternal Judge descend.

Day of wonders ! day of woe !
Day of evil's overthrow;
Day of joy! when all shall know-

Know and see the Lord of heaven !
Then, O then, may hope appear,
Faith our fainting spirits cheer,
Love dry up the trembling tear,
Whispering sweetly, 'Sins forgiven !'

Bowring: 377. BURIAL. The Christian's

CEASE, ye tearful mourners,

Thus your hearts to rend :
Death is life's beginning

Rather than its end.

378. BURIAL. The Sinner's

Wrapt in a Christless shroud,

He sleeps the Christless sleep;
Above him, the eternal cloud,

Beneath, the fiery deep.
Laid in a Christless tomb,

There, bound with felon-chain,
He waits the terrors of his doom,

The judgment and the pain.
O Christless shroud, how cold !

How dark, O Christless tomb!.
O grief that never can grow old !

O endless, hopeless doom !
O Christless sleep, how sad !

What waking shalt thou know?
For thee no star, no dawning glad,

Only the lasting woe!

All the grave's adornments,

What do they declare, Save that the departed

Are but sleeping there?

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