A FEW MORE.

CHAUCER.

1328-1400.

MAN OF LAW'S PROLOGUE.

Loss of chattel may recover-ed be,
But loss of time ruineth us, quoth he.

From The Doctor's Tale.

In her living maidens might-en read,
As in a book, every good word and deed
That 'longeth to a maiden virtuous,
She was so prudent, and so bounteous.

JOHN HEYWOOD'S PROVERBS. 1546.

Follow pleasure, and then will pleasure flee; Flee pleasure, and pleasure will follow thee.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

1552-1618.

Written the Night before his Execution,

And found in his Bible in the Gatehouse at Westminster.
E'en such is Time, which takes in trust

Our youth, our joys, our all we have
Which in the dark and silent grave-
When we have wandered all our ways-
Shuts up the story of our days;

And from which grave and earth and dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

SHAKESPEARE.

1564-1616.

Hamlet, iv. 4.

Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused.

Author to Seek.

Quoted in RAY'S HISTORY OF THE REBELLION OF 1745-6.
He that fights and runs away

May turn and fight another day;
But he that is in battle slain
Will never rise to fight again.

GEORGE WITHER.

1588-1667.

From THE HALLELUJAH.

XXVII.

The voice which I did more esteem
Than music in her sweetest key,
Those eyes which unto me did seem
More comfortable than the day;

Those now by me, as they have been,

Shall never more be heard or seen;

But what I once enjoyed in them

Shall seem hereafter as a dream.

INSCRIPTION AT MELROSE ABBEY.

The earth buildeth on the earth castles and towers; The earth sayeth to the earth, "All shall be ours; The earth walketh on the earth, glistering like gold; The earth goeth to the earth sooner than it wold.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

1618-1667.

From LINES TO HOBBES.

Nor can the snow, which now cold Age does shed
Upon thy reverend head,

Quench or allay the noble fires within;
But all which thou hast been,

And all that youth can be, thou'rt yet,
So fully still dost thou

Enjoy the manhood and the bloom of Wit,
And all the natural heat, but not the fever too.

And if we weigh, like thee,

Nature and causes, we shall see

That thus it needs must be.

To things immortal Time can do no wrong,
And that which never is to die, for ever must be

young.

HOPE.

Hope! of all ills that men endure,

The only cheap and universal cure! . .
Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!
Hope thou first-fruits of happiness!
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success! . .
Brother of Faith, 'twixt whom and thee

The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be! . .

B B

BISHOP KEN.

1637-1711,

MORNING HYMN.

Awake, my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run;
Shake off dull sloth and early rise,
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Redeem thy mis-spent time that's past,
Live this day as if 'twere thy last;
To improve thy talent take due care,
'Gainst the Great Day thyself prepare.

Let all thy converse be sincere,
Thy conscience as the noon-day clear;
Think how all-seeing God thy ways,
And all thy secret thoughts, surveys,

Influenced by the Light Divine,
Let thy own light in good works shine;
Reflect all Heaven's propitious ways,
In ardent love, and cheerful praise.

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
Glory to the Eternal King. ..

Glory to Thee, who safe hast kept,
And hast refreshed me whilst I slept;
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake,
I may of endless light partake

Lord I my vows to thee renew,
Scatter my sins as morning dew;

.

Guard my first springs of thought and will, And with Thyself my spirit fill.

Direct, control, suggest, this day,
All I design, or do, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him, ye heavenly host above;

Praise Him, my soul, for all his love.

EVENING HYMN.

Glory to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, oh, keep me, King of kings,
Under thy own Almighty wings!

Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
Teach me to die, that so I may
Triumphing rise at the Last Day.

Oh may my soul on Thee repose,

And with sweet sleep mine eyelids close,Sleep that may me more vigorous make, To serve my God when I awake. .