ONE thinks the soul is air; another, fire; And to her essence each doth give a part. Davies. The soul of man, a native of the skies, Young. Let earth dissolve-yon ponderous orb descend, Young. Let fortune empty all her quiver in me, Dryden. The soul that desires not release from the clay, Only a sweet and virtuous soul, But when the whole world turns to coal, G. Herbert. The soul on earth is an immortal guest, A pilgrim panting for a rest to come, Hannah More. SOVEREIGNTY. JOVE's own tree, That holds the woods in awful sovereignty, A sovereign's great example forms a people; SOUND. Dryden Mallet. I HATE those potent madmen who keep all Etherege. Well-sounding verses are the charms we use, SOURCE. Or himself is none; But that eternal Infinite, and One, Who never did begin, and ne'er can end, Waller. On him all beings as their source depend.-Dryden. But were not nature still endow'd at large With all which life requires, though unadorn'd With such etherial sweetness? whence her voice The impassioned soul? whence the robes of light 598 SPECTRE. SPECTACLE. SPECTRE. SPECULATION. THE ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, A horrid spectre rises to my sight, Dryden. Joanna Baillie. SPECTACLE-SPECTATOR. FORTH riding underneath the castle wall, The dreadful spectacle of that sad house of pride. Spenser. AVAUNT! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Which thou dost glare with! Shakspere. They who have, or who have not, whom their great stars Throne and set high! servants Which are to France the spies and speculations, Thenceforth to speculations high and deep Shakspere. I turned my thoughts, and with capricious mind Milton. SPEECH. AND when she spake, Sweet words, like dropping honey, she did shed; When he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his voice and honied sentences.-Shakspere. When the fowler blows his whistle, To ensnare the birds with his mimic cry, The bird hears, as it were, the song of his companion, Speech is the vestibule of the palace of love; Jami, from the Persian. Oh! speak that again! Sweet as the syren's tongue those accents fall, And charm me to my ruin. Southern. Speech is the golden harvest that followeth the flowering of thought; Yet oftentimes runneth it to husk, and the grains be withered and scanty: Speech is reason's brother, and a kindly prerogative of man, That likeneth him to his Maker, who spake and it was done: Spirit may mingle with spirit, but sense requireth a symbol; And speech is the body of a thought, without which Martin F. Tupper. it were not seen. 600 SPIRIT. SPLEEN. SPIRIT. THAT a mighty man, of such descent, Shakspere. I can call up spirits from the vasty deep.- Pope. Take thou the poet's counsel to thy heart: God's nature glows through every form we see; Turn to thy soul, Eternity is there; Spirit thou art-of spirit-worlds the heir All other secrets can thy sense unfold. Charles Swain. SPLEEN. THE spleen with sudden vapour clouds the brain, Th' effect is real and the pain sincere.-Blackmore. The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns; Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own. Cowper. |