To break some maiden's and his mother's heart,
To be a pest where he was useful once,
Are bis sole aim, and all his glory now.

Cowper.

SOLDIER-Characteristics of the.
Black was his beard, and manly was his face;
The balls of his broad eyes roll'd in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;
He look'd a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned, and large of limbs, with sinews
strong,

Broad-shoulder'd, and his arms were round
and long;

Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield,
Conspicuous from afar, and overlook'd the field.
His surcoat was a bear's-skin on his back;
His hair hung long behind, and glossy raven-
black.

Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around, We loathe what none are left to share:
Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound.

SOLDIER-Definition of a.

SOLITUDE-Definition of.

Byron.

Ibid.

Even bliss 'twere woe alone to bear.

Dryden.

Dost thou know the fate of soldiers?
They're but Ambition's tools, to cut a way
To her unlawful ends; and when they're worn,
Hack'd, hewn with constant service, thrown
aside,

To rust in peace and rot in hospitals.

Southern.

The sun sets in their faces, life grows grey,
And sighs of desolation sweep its desert.
The winter of the heart aches in the eyes
Of mothers who have given their all-their all.
Massey.

SOLDIERS-Life of.

Soldiers are the only carnivorous animals who live in a gregarious state. Zimmerman.

SOLDIERS-Religion of.
Soldiers that carry their lives in their hands,
should carry the grace of God in their hearts.
Baxter.

Dark background 'gainst the sky. Thither
I went,

And bade my spirit drink that lonely draught
For which it long had languish'd 'mid the
strife

And fever of the world. I thought to be
There without witness, but the violet's eye
Look'd up to greet me; the fresh wild rose
smiled,

And the young pendent vine-flower kiss'd my
cheek.

And there were voices too. The garrulous
brook,

Untiring, to the patient pebbles told
Its history. Up came the singing breeze,
And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spake
Responsive, every one. Even busy life
Woke in that dell. The tireless spider threw
From spray to spray her silver-tissued snare;
The wary ant, whose curving pincers pierced
The treasured grain, toil'd toward her citadel;
To the sweet hive went forth the loaded bee;
And, from the wind-rock'd nest, the mother-
bird

SOLDIERS-Things which Make.
Ignorance, poverty, and vanity, make many
soldiers.
Zimmerman.
SOLICITATION-Proper Season of.
He was not taken well; he had not dined:
The veins unfill'd, the blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood To be alone, and silent in thy realm,

Sang to her nurslings.

Yet I strangely thought

SOLITUDE.

Spirit of life and love! It might not be :
There is no solitude in thy domains,

SOLITUDE.

in their bosoms sad memories and melancholy anticipations, which often give dark hues to

Save what man makes, when in his selfish their feelings in after-life.
breast

He locks his joys and bars out others' grief.
Thou hast not left thyself to Nature's round,
Without a witness. Trees, and flowers, and
streams,

Are social and benevolent; and he
Who oft communeth in their language pure,
Roaming among them at the cool of day,
Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dress'd,
His Maker there, to teach his listening heart.
Mrs. Sigourney.

In our early years, or more mature age, the power of employing ourselves, in the retirement of our closet, with any useful or agreeable occupation, banishes the dread of solitude. When soured by disappointment, we must endeavour to pursue some fixed and pleasing course of study, that there may be no blank leaf in our book of life. We never read without profit, if, with the pen or pencil in our hand, we mark such ideas as strike us by their novelty, or correct those we already possess. Reading soon becomes fatiguing, unless undertaken with an eye to our Own advantage or that of others, and when it does not enrich the mind with new ideas; but this habit is easily acquired by exercise, and then books afford the surest relief in the most melancholy moments. Painful and disagreeable ideas vanish from the mind that can fix its attention upon any subject. The sight of a noble and interesting object, the study of a useful science, the varied pictures of the different revolutions exhibited in the history of mankind, the improvements in any art, are capable of arresting the attention and charming every care; and it is thus that man becomes sociable with himself; it is thus that he finds his best friend within his own bosom. Zimmerman.

SOLITUDE-Effects of.

To be left alone in the wide world, with scarcely a friend-this makes the sadness which, striking its pang into the minds of the young and the affectionate, teaches them too soon to watch and interpret the spirit-signs of their own hearts, the solitude of the aged, when, one by one, their friends fall off, as fall the sere leaves from the trees in autumn. What is it to the overpowering sense of desolation which fills almost to breaking the sensitive heart of youth, when the nearest and dearest ties are severed? Rendered callous by time and suffering, the old feel less, although they complain more; the young, 66 bearing a grief too deep for tears," shrine

SOLITUDE-Enjoyments of.

Hawthorne.

Solitude is one of the highest enjoyments of which our nature is susceptible. Solitude is also, when too long continued, capable of being made the most severe, indescribable, unendurable source of anguish. Deloraine.

Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying,
Hear the soft winds above me flying,

With all their wanton boughs dispute,
And the more tuneful birds to both replying,
Nor be myself, too, mute.

A silver stream shall roll his waters near,
Gilt with the sunbeams here and there,

On whose enamel'd bank I'll walk,
And see how prettily they smile,

And hear how prettily they talk.
Ah! wretched and too solitary he,
Who loves not his own company!
He'll feel the weight of it many a day,
Unless he calls in sin or vanity
To help to bear it away.

SOLITUDE-Evils of.

Cowley.

Unsociable humours are contracted in solitude, which will, in the end, not fail of corrupting the understanding, as well as the manners, and of utterly disqualifying a man for the satisfactions and duties of life. Men must be taken as they are, and we neither make them or ourselves better, by flying from or quarrelling with them. Burke.

SOLITUDE-Haunts of.

To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion
dwell,

And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountains all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold,
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her
stores unroll'd;

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of
men,

To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can

bless;

Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less.

Who winds him thrice around his planet's waist,

Byron. Is by itself in joy or suffering.

SOLITUDE.

pany, and conversation when we are weary of
being alone, so that the one cures the other.
There is in fine no man so miserable as he that
is at a loss how to use his time. Seneca.
SONG Influence of.

Come then, a song; a winding gentle song
To lead me into sleep. Let it be low
As zephyr, telling secrets to his rose,
For I would hear the murmuring of my
thoughts;

And more of voice than of that other music
That grows around the strings of quivering
lutes;

But most of thought: for with my mind I listen.
And when the leaves of sound are shed upon it,
If there's no seed, remembrance grows not there,
So life, so death: a song, and then a dream!
Begin before another dewdrop fall
From the soft hold of these disturbed flowers,
For sleep is filling up my senses fast,
And from these words I sink.

SONG-Power of.

Beddoes.

We fancy that all our afflictions are sent us
directly from above; sometimes we think it in
piety and contrition, but oftener in morose-
ness and discontent. It would be well, how-
ever, if we attempted to trace the causes of
them; we should probably find their origin in
well explored, or in which we had secretly de-
some region of the heart which we never had
posited our worst indulgences. The clouds
from the heavens, but from the earth.
that intercept the heavens from us come not

W. S. Landor.
SORROW-True Character of.
The sorrows which the soul endures,

And if even words are sweet, what, what is Not self-inflicted, are but hooded joys,

song,

When lips we love the melody prolong?
How thrills the soul and vibrates to that lay,
Swells with the glorious sound, or dies away!
How to the cadence of the simplest words
That ever hung upon the wild harp's chords
The breathless heart lies listening; as it felt
All life within it on that music dwelt,
And hush'd the beating pulse's rapid power,
By its own will for that enchanted hour.
Hon. Mrs. Norton.

SONGS-Celestiality of.

That when she touches the white strand of
heaven,

They cluster round her and slip off their robes,
And laugh out angels in the world of light.
J. Stanyan Bigg.
SORROW-Comfort in.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall |
be comforted.
St. Matthee.

Whoever can turn his weeping eyes to heaven has lost nothing; for there, above, is everything he can wish for here below. He

Little dewdrops of celestial melody. Carlyle. only is a loser, who persists in looking down on the narrow plains of the present time.

SONNETTEERS-Number of.

Steele.

In all ages, and in every nation where poetry has been in fashion, the tribe of sonnetteers hath been very numerous. Every pert young fellow that has a moving fancy, and the least jingle of verse in his head, sets up for a writer of songs, and resolves to immortalize his bottle or his mistress. What a world of insipid productions in this kind have we been pestered with since the Revolution, to go no higher. SORROW-Abstraction of. And she forgot the stars, the moon, And she forgot the blue above the trees, And she forgot the dells where waters run, And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze; She had no knowledge when the day was done, And the new morn she saw not: but in peace Hung over her sweet Basil evermore, And moisten'd it with tears unto the core.

and sun,

Keats.