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Somerville, The heart is hard in nature, and unfit For human fellowship, as being void Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike To love and friendship both, that is not pleased With sight of animals enjoying life, Nor feels their happiness augment his own.- Cowper. Though man, as God's own miniature, reveals The grace of beauty and the glow of soul, And Deity be chartered on his brow, The brutes and plumy pilgrims of the air, The insect tribe, and all the scaly troop That wing their rapid way, proclaim a God! Behold the lion bounding from his den With red and rolling eye! or hear the bear While grimly glancing o'er the ice-clad waste, Loading the wind with his tremendous howl! Or see leviathan uproot the deep, And lash the ocean into storms! or mark The kingly eagle pierce the cope of heaven, And shiver the contending clouds! Great God! These give to mortal eyes a glimpse of Thee!
The things we fear bring less annoy.
Sadness cannot be;
Never came near thee.-Shelley, to the Lark.
WITHIN the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Death keeps his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state.
What! dares the slave Come hither covered with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Scrambling, outfacing, fashion-mongering boys,
For even at first reflection she espies
Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
ANTIQUARY. ANTIQUITY. INSTRUCTED by the antiquary, time, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise.—Shakspere.
They are the Registers—the chronicles of the age They were made in, and speak the truth of history, Better than a hundred of your printed Communications.
S. Marmyon. They say he sits All day in contemplation of a statue With ne'er a nose; and dotes on the decays, With greater love than the self-loved Narcissus Did on his beauty.
A copper-plate, with almanacks
What toil did honest Curio take,
For being true antique I bought;
On modern models to be wrought;
Because they're old, because they're new. Prior.
Pope. . He shows on holidays a sacred pin, That touched the ruff, that touched Queen Bess's chin.
Young. Rare are the buttons of a Roman's breeches, In antiquarian eyes surpassing riches; Rare is each cracked, black, rotten, earthen dish, That held of ancient Rome-the flesh and fish.
Dr. Wolcot. I knew Anselmo. He was shrewd and prudent, Wisdom and cunning had their share of him; But he was shrewish as a wayward child, And pleased again by toys which childhood please; As-book of fables grand with print of wood, Or else the jingling of a rusty medal, Or the rare melody of some old ditty, That first was sung to please King Pepin's cradle.
Scott. Name not those living death's-heads unto me, For these not ancient, but antique be.
And sooner shall a galling weather spy,
A towmond gude;
Must he no more divert the tedious day,
APPAREL. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man.-Shahispere. Thy gown? why, ay:-come tailor let us see’t. O mercy, good! what masking stuff is here! What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart? Here's snip and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop:-Why what, a’devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?