The sky

Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
Bespangled with those isles of light
So wildly, spiritually bright.
Who ever gazed upon them shining,
And turn'd to earth without repining,
Nor wish'd for wings to flee away,
And mix with their eternal ray?—Byron.

3217. STARS. The doomed.

THE stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years.
Addison.

3218. STARS. The inhabited.

AMPLITUDE almost immense, with stars Numerous, and every star perhaps a world Of destined habitation.-Milton.

Such vast room in nature unpossess'd
By living soul, desert and desolate,
Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute
Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far
Down to this habitable, which returns
Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.

Milton.
But the day is spent,
And stars are kindling in the firmament,
To us how silent-though, like ours, perchance,
Busy and full of life and circumstance.-Rogers.

Each of these stars is a religious house; I saw
Their altars smoke, their incense rise;
And heard hosannas ring through every sphere,
A seminary fraught with future gods.
Nature all o'er a consecrated ground,
Teeming with growths immortal and divine.
The great Proprietor's all bounteous hand
Leaves nothing waste; but sows these fiery fields
With seeds of reason, which to virtues rise
Beneath His genial ray.-Young.

Count o'er those lamps of quenchless light
That sparkle through the shades of night;
Behold them !-can a mortal boast
To number that celestial host?

Mark well each little star, whose rays
In distant splendour meet thy gaze:
Each is a world by Him sustain'd
Who from eternity hath reign'd.

Each, kindled not for earth alone,
Hath circling planets of its own,
And beings whose existence springs
From Him, the all-powerful King of kings.
Mrs Hemans.

3219. STARS. The: not the abode of God.

WHEN up to nightly skies we gaze,
Where stars pursue their endless ways,
We think we see, from earth's low clod,
The wide and shining home of God.

'Tis vain to dream those tracts of space,
With all their worlds, approach His face:
One glory fills each wheeling ball-
One love has shaped and moved them all.

This earth, with all its dust and tears,
Is no less His than yonder spheres ;

And rain-drops weak, and grains of sand,
Are stamp'd by His immediate hand.—Sterling.

Not starr'd and spangled courts, Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride.

No: men, high-minded men,

With powers as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude-
Men who their duties know,

But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aim'd blow,

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain;

These constitute a state;

And sovereign law, that state's collected will,

O'er thrones and globes elate,

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Smit by her sacred frown,

The fiend, Dissension, like a vapour sinks;

And e'en the all-dazzling crown

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
Sir William Jones.

3223. STATE. Duty to the
OUR country is a whole, my Publius,
Of which we all are parts: nor should a citizen
Regard his interests as distinct from hers:
No hopes or fears should touch his patriot soul,
But what affect her honour or her shame.
E'en when in hostile fields he bleeds to save her,
'Tis not his blood he loses, 'tis his country's;
He only pays her back a debt he owes.
To her he's bound for birth and education;
Her laws secure him from domestic feuds,
And from the foreign foe her arms protect him.
She lends him honours, dignity, and rank,
His wrongs revenges, and his merit pays;
And, like a tender and indulgent mother,

Loads him with comforts, and would make his state
As bless'd as nature and the gods design'd it.
Such gifts, my son, have their alloy of pain,
And let the unworthy wretch, who will not bear
His portion of the public burden, lose
The advantages it yields; let him retire

From the dear blessings of a social life,

And from the sacred laws which guard those blessings,

Renounce the civilized abodes of man,

With kindred brutes one common shelter seek
In horrid wilds, and dens, and dreary caves,
And with their shaggy tenants share the spoil;
Or, if the shaggy hunters miss their prey,
From scatter'd acorns pick a scanty meal :
Far from the sweet civilities of life,

There let him live and vaunt his wretched freedom,
While we, obedient to the laws that guard us,
Guard them, and live or die, as they decree.
Hannah More.

3224. STATES: easily destroyed.

A THOUSAND years scarce serve to form a state; An hour may lay it in the dust.-Byron.

3225. STATESMEN.

BELIEVE me, friends, loud tumults are not laid
With half the easiness that they are raised.
Ben Jonson.

He ill aspires to rule

Cities of men or headstrong multitudes, Subject himself to anarchy within. -Milton.

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
In action faithful, and in honour clear!
Who broke no promise, served no private end,
Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend:
Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
Praised, wept, and honour'd by the muse he loved.
Pope

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.

Goldsmith. Whose genius was such

We scarcely could praise him, or blame him too

much;

Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Goldsmith.

3226. STATUES.

So stands the statue that enchants the world.
Thomson.

Thereon, amongst his travels, found
A broken statue on the ground;
And searching onward, as he went,
He traced a ruin'd monument.
Mould, moss, and shades had overgrown
The sculpture of the crumbling stone;
Yet ere he past, with much ado,
He guess'd, and spell'd out Sci-pi-o.

* Enough,' he cried; 'I'll drudge no more
In turning the dull Stoics o'er.'-Watts.

3227. STEP BY STEP.

HEAVEN is not reach'd at a single bound;

But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round. I count this thing to be grandly true: That a noble deed is a step toward God,

Lifting the soul from the common clod To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are under feet;

By what we have master'd of good and gain; By the pride deposed and the passion slain; And the vanquish'd ills that we hourly meet. We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,

When the morning calls us to life and light, But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,

And we think that we mount the air on wings, Beyond the recall of sensual things, While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. Wings for the angels, but feet for men!

We may borrow the wings to find the wayWe may hope and resolve and aspire and pray; But our feet must rise, or we fall again. Only in dreams is a ladder thrown

From the weary earth to the sapphire walls, But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. Heaven is not reach'd at a single bound;

But we build the ladder by which we rise, From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round. J. G. Holland.

What were it now to toss upon the waves-
The madden'd waves, and know no succour near
The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night,
And only see the billows' gleaming light;
And in the dread of death to think of her
Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale,
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale?
O God! have mercy on the mariner !—Southey.
A thunder-storm!-the eloquence of heaven,
When every cloud is from its slumber riven,
Who hath not paused beneath its hollow groan,
And felt Omnipotence around him thrown?
With what a gloom the ushering scene appears!
The leaves all fluttering with instinctive fears,
The waters curling with a fellow dread,

A breezeless fervour round creation spread,
And, last, the heavy rain's reluctant shower,
With big drops pattering on the tree and bower,
While wizard shapes the lowering sky deform,—
All mark the coming of a thunder-storm.

R. Montgomery.

3230. STORMS OF LIFE.
AMID the darkness, when the storm,
Swept fierce and wild o'er Galilee,
Was seen of old, dear Lord, Thy form,
All calmly walking on the sea;
And raging elements were still,
Obedient to Thy sovereign will.

So on life's restless, heaving wave,

When night and storm my sky o'ercast,
Oft hast Thou come to cheer and save,

Hast changed my fear to joy at last.
Thy voice hath bid the tumult cease,
And soothed my throbbing heart to peace.
But ah! too soon my fears return,

And dark mistrust disturbs anew;
What smother'd fires within yet burn!

My days of peace, alas, how few!
These heart-throes,-shall they ne'er be past?
These strifes,-shall they for ever last?

I heed not danger, toil, nor pain,
Care not how hard the storm may beat,
If in my heart Thy peace may reign,
And faith and patience keep their seat;
If strength Divine may nerve my soul,
And love my every thought control.

Oh may that voice that quell'd the sea,
And laid the surging waves to rest,
Speak in my spirit, set me free

From passions that disturb my breast.

Jesus, I yield me to Thy will,

And wait to hear Thy 'Peace, be still!'

Ray Palmer.

3231. STRENGTH. Growth of
VIGOUR from toil, from trouble patience grows.
The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,
Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;

But ah! it withers in the chilling hour.
Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power
Of all the warring winds of heaven they rise,

And from the stormy promontory tower They toss their giant arms amid the skies, While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies.-Beattie.

3232. STRENGTH. Promise of

WHEN adverse winds and waves arise,
And in my heart despondence sighs,
When life its throng of care reveals,
And weakness o'er my spirit steals,
Grateful I hear the kind decree
That-'as my day, my strength shall be.'
When, with sad footstep, memory roves,
'Mid smitten joys and buried loves,
When sleep my tearful pillow flies,
And dewy morning drinks my sighs,
Still to Thy promise, Lord, I flee,
That

as my day, my strength shall be.'

One trial more must yet be past,
One pang, the keenest and the last-
And when with brow convulsed and pale,
My feeble, quivering heart-strings fail,
Redeemer! grant my soul to see
That as her day, her strength shall be.'
Mrs Sigourney.

In vain on study time away we throw,
When we forbear to act the things we know.
Denham.

If not to some peculiar end assign'd,
Study's the specious trifling of the mind;
Or is at best a secondary aim,

A chase for sport alone, and not for game.
Young.

Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six,
Four spend in prayer, the rest on nature fix.
Quoted in Latin by Sir E. Coke.

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven,
Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.
Sir Wm. Jones.

I know what study is; it is to toil
Hard through the hours of the sad midnight watch
At tasks which seem a systematic curse,
And course of bootless penance.-Bailey.

All mankind are students. How to live
And how to die forms the great lesson still.

Who gave his mind to seek and search until He knew all Wisdom-found that on the page Knowledge and grief were vow'd companions still! And so the students of a later day

Sit down among the records of old time To hold high commune with the thoughts sublime Of minds long gone :-so they too pass away,

And leave us what? their course, to toil-reflectTo feel the thorn pierce through our gather'd flowersStill 'midst the leaves the earth-worm to detect: And this is Knowledge.—Mrs Eames.

My midnight lamp is weary as my soul,
And, being unimmortal, has gone out.
And now alone yon moony lamp of heaven,
Which God lit, and not man, illuminates
These volumes others wrote in weariness
As I have read them; and this cheek and brow,
Whose paleness, burned in with heats of thought,
Would make an angel smile to see how ill
Clay thrust from Paradise consorts with mind,-
If angels could, like men, smile bitterly.
Mrs Browning.

3234. STYLE.

THE fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words; and I do know
A many fools that stand in better place,

Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter.-Shakespeare.

Express thyself in plain, not doubtful words,
That ground for quarrels or disputes affords.

Denham.

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence;
The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar ;
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labours, and the words move slow:
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the
main.-Pope.

Expression is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent, as more suitable;
A vile conceit in pompous words express'd
Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd.-Pope.

Some to conceit alone their tastes confine,
And curious thoughts struck out at every line-
Pleased with a work where nothing's just or fit,
One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.—Pope.

Others for language all their care express,
And value books, as women men, for dress:
Their praise is still, 'The style is excellent ;'
The sense they humbly take upon content.-Pope.
First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same;
Unerring Nature, still Divinely bright,
One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of art.

True expression, like th' unchanging sun,
Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon :
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.-Pope.
Pride often guides the author's pen;
Books as affected are as men ;
But he who studies nature's laws
From certain truth his maxims draws;

And those, without our schools, suffice,
To make men moral, good, and wise.-Gay.

As veils transparent cover, but not hide,
Such metaphors appear when right applied;
When through the phrase we plainly see the sense,
Truth with such obvious meanings will dispense.
Granville.

Hyperboles, so daring and so bold,
Disdaining bounds, are yet by rules controll'd;
Above the clouds, but yet within our sight,
They mount with truth, and make a towering flight.
Granville.

Our lines reform'd, and not composed in haste,
Polish'd like marble, would like marble last.
Waller.

Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express
With painful care, but seeming easiness;
For truth shines brightest through the plainest dress.
Roscommon.

3235. SUBMISSION. A psalm of

I HOPED that with the brave and strong
My portion'd task might lie;
To toil amid the busy throng

With purpose pure and high;
But God has fix'd another part,
And He has fix'd it well;

I said so with my breaking heart
When first this trouble fell.

These weary hours will not be lost,
These days of misery,

These nights of darkness, tempest-tost,—
Can I but turn to Thee;

With secret labour to sustain

In patience every blow,
To gather fortitude from pain,

And holiness from woe.

If Thou shouldst bring me back to life,
More humble I should be,

More wise, more strengthen'd for the strife,
More apt to lean on Thee.

Should death be standing at the gate,

Thus should I keep my vow:

But, Lord! whatever be my fate,

Oh let me serve Thee now.-Anne Bronté.