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Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot. Upon Roscommon's Trans. of Horuce, De Arte Poetica. Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.
Divine Love. Canto iii. That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing.
MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. 1612 – 1650.
He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small, 1 So in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Æschylus, Fragm. 123, Plumptre's Translation.
Thomas Moore, Corruption.
That dares not put it to the touch
My Dear and only Love.!
And famous by my sword. Ibid.
SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 1605 – 1682.
Too rashly charged the troops of error and remain as trophies unto the enemies of truth.
Religio Medici. Part i. Sec. vi. Rich with the spoils of nature.
Ibid. Part i. Sec. xiii. Nature is the art of God. Ibid. Sec. xvi.
There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument. Ibid. Part ii. Sec. ix.
Sleep is a death ; O make me try
Ibid. Part ii. Sec. 12. Ruat cælum, fiat voluntas tua. Ibid. Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave. Urn-Burial. Ch. v. | From Napier's Mem. of Montrose, Vol. i. App. xxxiv.
That puts it not unto the touch,
To win or lose it all. From Napier's Montrose and the Covenanters, Vol.ii. 2 Rich with the spoils of time. — Gray, Elegy, St. 13. 8 See Young, Night Thoughts, ix. Line 1267. 4 Do well and right, and let the world sink.
Herbert, Country Parson, Ch. 29.
JOHN MILTON. 1608 – 1674.
PARADISE LOST. Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our woe.
Book i. Line 1.
Or if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flowed Fast by the oracle of God.
Line 10. Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
Line 16. What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support ; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.' Line 22. As far as Angel's ken.
Line 59. Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible. Line 62.
Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
Line 65. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; th’ unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield. Line 105. 1 But vindicate the ways of God to man.
Pope, Essay on Man, Ep. i. Line 16.
Paradise Lost continued.]
To be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering.
Book i. Line 157. And out of good still to find means of evil.
Book i. Line 165.
Farewell happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells : hail, horrors ; hail.
Book i. Line 249. A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
Book i. Line 253 Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell : Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.
Book i. Line 261.
Heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battle.
Book i. Line 275. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle. Book i. Line 292. Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower. Book i. Line 302. Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen! Line 330.
i Compare Book iv. Line 75.
(Paradise Lost continued. Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both. Booki. Line 423. Execute their airy purposes. Book i. Line 4 30.
When night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Book i. Line 500. Th’imperial ensign, which, full high advanc'd, Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind."
Book i. Line 536. Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds : At which the universal host up sent A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
Book i. Line 540. In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders. Book i. Line 550.
His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear’d Less than archangel ruined, and th’ excess Of glory obscured.
Book i. Line 591. In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Book i. Line 597. Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spite of scorn Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.
Book i. Line 619. I Compare Gray. The Bard, i. 2. Line 6.