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Oh, Hesperus ! thou bringest all good things

Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer, To the young bird the parents' brooding wings,

The welcome stall to the o'erlabour'd steer ; Whate'er of peace

about our hearthstone clings, Whate'er our household gods protect of dear, Are gather'd round us by thy look of rest ; Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's breast.

Canto ill.

Stanza 107


These two hated with a hate Found only on the stage, and each more pained

With this his tuneful neighbour than his fate; Sad strife arose, for they were so cross-grain’d,

Instead of bearing up without debate, That each pulld different ways with many an oath, “ Arcades ambo,” id est-blackguards both.

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I've stood upon Achilles' tomb, And heard Troy doubted : time will doubt of Rome,

Stanza 101.

Of all appeals—although
I grant

the power of pathos, and of gold, Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling,- no

Method's more sure at moments to take hold Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow

More tender as we every day behold,

Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul—the dinner bell.

Canto v.

Stanza 49

Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.

Canto vi.

Stanza 7.

I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse

The tyrant's wish, “ that mankind only had
One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce;”

My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,
And much more tender on the whole than fierce;

It being (not now, but only while a lad)
That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
To kiss them all at once, from north to south.

Stanza 27

Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas !

Declared with all his grand discoveries recent,
That he himself felt only “ like a youth
Picking up shells by the great ocean, Truth.”

Canto vii.

Stanza 5.

As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands.

Canto 1x.

Stanza 59.

Kill a man's family, and he may brook it,

But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.

Canto X. Stanza 79.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is pass’d in sleep.

Canto xiv.

Stanza 3.

Alas!. worlds fall—and woman, since she fell’d

The world (as since that, history, less polite Than true, hath been a creed so strictly held),

Has not yet given up the practice quite. Poor thing of usages ! coerced-compellid, Victim when



oft when right,
Condemned to child-bed, as men for their sins
Have shaving, too, entailed upon their chins,-
A daily plague, which, in the aggregate,
May average on the whole with parturition.

Stanzas 23, 24.

'Tis strange, but true ; for truth is always strange ; Stranger than fiction.

Stanza 101.


Sublime tobacco ! which from east to west,
Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest;
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides

His hours, and rivals opium and his brides ;
Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand :
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe ;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress ;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties-give me a cigar!

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He who hath bent him o'er the dead.
Ere the first day of death is fled,
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
(Before Decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,)
And mark'd the mild angelic air,

that's there.

Lines 68-75.

Shrine of the mighty ! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?

Lines 106, 107.

Gayer insects fluttering by Ne’er droop the wing o'er those that die, And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, . And every woe a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame. Lines 416-421.


Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend, and who my guide ?
Years have not seen- -time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee.

Canto la

Stanza II


She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Canto lo

Stanza 3.

Such hath it been shall be-beneath the sun
The many still must labour for the one. Stanza 8.

* “Well, let the world change on,-still must endure

While earth is earth, one changeless race, the poor !
Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. The New Timon. Part i. Stanza 1.

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