Throw not your country's manners quite aside,
Nor taint our honest air with foreign pride.
An Englishman (the proverb tells you true)
Who turns Italian, turns a devil too:
And none, unless distracted, would forego
The British substance for the Gallic show.
Own that a man of worth may justly shine,
Who never Paris view'd, or pass'd the Rhine.
Samuel Wesley, Fr.

3365. TRAVELLERS.

WITH reverend tutor clad in habit lay,

To tease for cash, and quarrel with all day;
With memorandum-book for every town,

And every post, and where the chaise broke down;
His stock, a few French phrases got by heart,
With much to learn, but nothing to impart.
The youth, obedient to his sire's commands,
Sets off a wand'rer into foreign lands.
Surprised at all they meet, the gosling pair,
With awkward gait, stretch'd neck, and silly stare,
Discover huge cathedrals built with stone,
And steeples tow'ring high much like our own;
But show peculiar light, by many a grin
At Popish practices observed within.-Cowper.

Returning he proclaims by many a grace
By shrugs and strange contortions of his face,
How much a dunce that has been sent to roam,
Excels a dunce that has been kept at home.

3366. TREASON.

Cowper.

SMOOTH runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.

Shakespeare.

The man who rises on his country's ruin,
Lives in a crowd of foes, himself the chief:
In vain his power, in vain his pomp and pleasure
His guilty thoughts, those tyrants of the soul,
Steal in unseen, and stab him in his triumph.

Martyn. Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it treason.

Harrington.

He who contends for freedom, Can ne'er be justly deem'd his sovereign's foe: No, 'tis the wretch who tempts him to subvert it, The soothing slave, the traitor in the bosom, Who best deserves that name.-Thomson.

3367: TREATIES.

IT is a vain attempt To bind th' ambitious and unjust by treaties:

The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves

Order'd by an intelligence so wise
As might confound the atheist's sophistries.

Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;

No grazing cattle through their prickly round
Can reach to wound;

But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.

I love to view these things with curious eyes,
And moralize;

And in this wisdom of the holly-tree
Can emblem see

Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme; One which may profit in the after-time.-Southey. 'Tis beautiful to see a forest stand,

Brave with its moss-grown monarchs and the pride Of foliage dense, to which the south wind bland Comes with a kiss, as lover to his bride; To watch the light grow fainter, as it streams

Through arching aisles, where branches interlace, Where sombre pines rise o'er the shadowy gleams Of silver birch, trembling with modest grace. But they who dwell beside the stream and hill Prize little treasures there so kindly given : The song of birds, the babbling of the rill,

The pure unclouded light and air of heaven. They walk as those who seeing cannot see,

Blind to this beauty even from their birth: We value little blessings ever free;

We covet most the rarest things of earth.

Rest must be won by toil and pain

The crown repays the cross.

As woods, when shaken by the breeze,
Take deeper, firmer root,

As winter's frosts but make the trees

Abound in summer fruit ;

So every Heaven-sent pang and throe
That Christian firmness tries,
But nerves us for our work below,

And forms us for the skies.-Lyte.

Till from the straw the flail the corn doth beat,
Until the chaff be purged from the wheat,
Yea, till the mill the grain in pieces tear,
The richness of the flour will scarce appear.
So, till men's persons great afflictions touch,
If worth be found, their worth is not so much;
Because, like wheat in straw, they have not yet
That value which in thrashing they may get.
For till the bruising flails of God's corrections
Have thrashed out of us our vain affections,
Till those corruptions which do misbecome us
Are by Thy sacred Spirit winnow'd from us;
Until from us the straw of worldly treasures,
Till all the dusty chaff of empty pleasures,
Yea, till His flail upon us He doth lay,
To thrash the husk of this our flesh away,
And leave the soul uncover'd; nay, yet more,
Till God shall make our very spirit poor,
We shall not up to highest wealth aspire;
But then we shall; and that is my desire.

3370. TRIALS not the whole of life.

DID we think of the light and sunshine,
Of the blessings left us still,
When we sit and ponder darkly
And blindly o'er life's ill,
How should we dispel the shadows

Of still and deep despair,
And lessen the weight of anguish
Which every heart must bear !

The clouds may rest on the present,
And sorrow on days that are gone,
But no night is so utterly cheerless
That we may not look for the dawn:
And there is no human being

With so wholly dark a lot,
But the heart by turning the picture
May find some sunny spot:

For, as in the days of winter,

When the snow-drifts whiten the hill, Some birds in the air will flutter,

And warble to cheer us still;

And woman can forgive a wrong

Which casts her on the world,
Far better than forgive the tongue
That may some sneer have hurl'd;
A thousand times prefer a lot

As hard as want deplores,
Than feel or think herself forgot
By one her heart adores !

Alas, the human mould's at fault;
And still by turns it claims
A nobleness that can exalt,

A littleness that shames!
Of strength and weakness still combined,
Compounded of the mean and grand;
And trifles thus will shake the mind
That would a tempest stand.

3380. TRUTH. Calmness of

ALL truth is calm,

Refuge and rock and tower;

The more of truth the more of calm,
Its calmness is its power.
Truth is not strife,

Nor is to strife allied;

It is the error that is bred

Of storm, by rage and pride.
Calmness is truth,

And truth is calmness still;

Truth lifts its forehead to the storm,
Like some eternal hill.-Bonar.

3381. TRUTH: changeless.

IT fortifies my soul to know
That, though I perish, Truth is so:
That, howsoe'er I stray and range,
Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change:
I steadier step when I recall

That, if I slip, Thou dost not fall.—Clough.

3382. TRUTH. Controversies about

STILL as a statue, on as firm a base,

But warm and rosy with life-giving life,

Stands Truth; not veil'd, but shelter'd from the strife

Of clashing passions in a holy place.
Around, with busy hands and upturn'd face,

Her votaries stand; no sacrificial knife
Have they, but gravers, there, and tints are rife,
And tablets well prepared, whereon they trace,

Or strive to trace, her features pure and fair. These all around their different stations take;

Some love the twilight, some the noonday glare,
And some for morning's misty brilliance wake.
And so it is, of all the limners there,
Not any two the self-same image make.

But when from out the temple-doors they go,
And raise their finish'd works that all may see,
A hideous clamour greets their industry:
Which is the Truth?' say men.

know

'How may we

Which is the goddess? O ye limners, show!
So manifold we know she cannot be,

For Truth is one-therefore this is not she.'
And then, for very love of Truth, ah, woe!
They trample under-foot her queenly form,
And drag it through the miry sloughs of doubt!
Yet while her pale priests wrangle in the storm,
Pleading their adverse claims with cry and shout,
There, all the time, life-giving, rosy, warm,
Stands Truth, with holy quiet clothed about.

T. M. H.

3383. TRUTH. Disclosures of

SEARCHING the skiey depths all night in vain,
The starry seer hath known this mystery-
That the sky orb, which over half the sky
Hath balk'd his chase, and mock'd his utmost pain,
If (haply while the daylight pour'd amain

Into the empty concave of the night)
Hath stepp'd into his glass, as clear to sight
As the one tree that stars a glassy plain,
So is it known that some secretive Truth,
Which Thought and Patience strove in vain to find,
Just when Despair and Doubt were swallowing all,
Hath dropp'd into the heart without a call,
Conspicuous as a Fire, and sweet as Youth,
An everlasting stronghold to the mind.-Burbidge.

3384. TRUTH. Fidelity to

CONVINCE the world that you're devout and true,
Be just in all you say, in all you do,
Whatever be your birth, you're sure to be
A peer of the first quality to me.-Juvenal.

This above all, to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Shakespeare.

3385. TRUTH. Grace of

HARD by Truth's temple
A lovely being stood;
Array'd in white,

The symbol of her God.
The unholy throng pass'd by,

And stood aghast ;

Said, Let me be like her,

'And on they pass'd.
There's beauty in that form
Not elsewhere seen ;
ame and nature,

It's in her nam

And her stately mien.
Her name is Truth,

A lovely Christian grace;
Among Heaven's mighty

She ever holds her place.
The earth shall pass away,

The stars shall fall,
The heavens roll together
Like a parchment scroll;
But Truth shall live for ever,
And through endless ages give
Her blessings to the sainted,
And fail them never, never.

3386. TRUTH. Guidance of

O TRUTH divine! enlighten'd by thy ray,
I grope and guess no more, but see my way.
Arbuthnot.

I shut my eyes, in grief and shame,

Upon the dreary past;
My heart, my soul pour'd recklessly
On dreams that could not last:

My bark was drifted down the stream
At will of wind or wave,-
An idle, light, and fragile thing,
That few had cared to save.

Henceforth the tiller Truth shall hold,
And steer as Conscience tells,
And I will brave the storms of Fate,
Though wide the ocean swells.

I know my soul is strong and high,
If once I give it sway;
I feel a glorious power within,
Though light I seem and gay.
Frances S. Osgood.

3387. TRUTH: imperishable.

THE only amaranthine flower on earth
Is virtue; th' only lasting treasure, truth.

Cowper.

Marble and recording brass decay, And like the 'graver's memory, pass away; The works of man inherit, as is just, Their author's frailty, and return to dust; But truth divine for ever stands secure, Its head is guarded, as its base is sure; Fix'd in the rolling flood of endless years, The pillar of the eternal plan appears; The raving storm and dashing wave defies, Built by that Architect who built the skies.

Cowper.

3388. TRUTH: must be sought earnestly.
TRUTH, like a single point, escapes the sight,
And claims attention to perceive it right;
But what resembles truth is soon descried,
Spread like a surface, and expanded wide.

Pomfret.

Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow:
He who would search for pearls must dive below.
Dryden.

But what is Truth? 'Twas Pilate's question, put
To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
'And wherefore? Will not God impart His light
To them that ask it? Freely,-'tis His joy,
His glory, and His nature, to impart.

Such as men give and take from day to day, Comes in the common walk of easy life,

Blown by the careless wind across our way.

Bought in the market, at the current price,
Bred of the smile, the jest, perchance the bowl;
It tells no tales of daring or of worth,

Nor pierces even the surface of a soul.

Great truths are greatly won. Not found by chance,
Nor wafted on the breath of summer-dream;
But grasp'd in the great struggle of the soul,

Hard-buffeting with adverse wind and stream.
Not in the general mart, 'mid corn and wine;

Not in the merchandise of gold and gems; Not in the world's gay hall of midnight mirth; Not 'mid the blaze of regal diadems;