186

DELAY-PROCRASTINATION.

DELAY-PROCRASTINATION.

1. O, my good lord, that comfort comes too late:
"Tis like a pardon after execution;

That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I'm past all comfort here but prayers.

2. Your gift is princely, but it comes too late, And falls like sunbeams on a blasted blossom.

3. Shun delays, they breed remorse;

Take thy time, while time is lent thee;
Creeping snails have weakest force;

Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee.
Good is best when soonest wrought,
Lingering labours come to nought.

4. Be wise to-day: 't is madness to defer; Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on till wisdom is push'd out of life.

SHAKSPEARE,

SUCKLING

SOUTHWELL.

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts.

5. Procrastination is the thief of time:

Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts.

6. Think not to-morrow still shall be your care;
Alas! to-morrow like to-day will fare.
Reflect that yesterday's to-morrow's o'er,—
Thus one "to-morrow," one "to-morrow" more,
Have seen long years before them fade away,
And still appear no nearer than to-day.

GIFFORD'S Perseus.

7.

Oh! how many deeds

Of deathless virtue, and immortal crime,
The world had wanted, had the actor said

I will do this to-morrow!

LORD JOHN RUSSELL.

1.

DELICACY.

Like the lily,

That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

SHAKSPEARE.

2. Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled.

3.

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts.

May the snowy wings

Of innocence and love protect thee!

4. Ah! little will the lip reveal

AKENSIDE.

Of all the burning heart may feel.

MISS L. E. LANDON.

5. Her eye may grow dim, and her cheek may grow pale, But tell they not both the same fond tale?—

6.

Love's lights have fled from her eye and her cheek,
To burn and die on the heart which they seek.

She bore herself

So gently, that the lily on its stalk
Bends not so easily its dewy head.

MISS L. E. LANDON

7. Sweet beauty sleeps upon thy brow,
And floats before my eyes;

As meek and pure as doves art thou,
Or beings of the skies.

J. G. PERCIVAL.

ROBERT MORRIS.

188

DESIGN-INTENTION - DESPAIR.

8. I dare not think, thou lovely maid,
Thy soul-lit beauty e'er shall-fade;
Sure, life and love must stay with thee,
Chain'd by thy potent witchery.

MRS. CHILD

DESIGN-INTENTION.

1. I do believe you think what now you speak, But what we do determine oft we break: Purpose is but the slave to memory,

Of violent birth, but poor validity;

Which now, like fruits unripe, sticks on the tree,
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.

2. He that intends well, yet deprives himself
Of means to put his good thoughts into deeds,
Deceives his purpose of the due reward.

SHAKSPEARE.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

3. When any great designs thou dost intend, Think on the means, the manner, and the end.

DENHAM.

4. When men's intents are wicked, their guilt haunts them, But when they're just, they're arm'd, and nothing daunts

5.

1.

them.

Honest designs

Justly resemble our devotions,

Which we must pay, and wait for the reward.

MIDDLETON.

SIR R. HOWARD.

DESPAIR.

It were all one,

That I should love a bright particular star,

And think to wed it.

SHAKSPEARE.

2. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written tablets of the brain;
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

3

Despair

Gives courage to the weak. Resolv'd to die,
He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,
And deals his deaths around.

SHAKSPEARE.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

4. Lean abstinence, pale grief, and haggard care, The dire attendants of forlorn despair.

5. So farewell, hope, and with hope farewell fear;
Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good!

PATTISON.

MILTON'S Paradise Lost.

6. My loss is such as cannot be repair'd,
And to the wretched, life can be no mercy.

7. Talk not of comfort-t is for lighter ills; I will indulge my sorrow, and give way To all the pangs and fury of despair.

DRYDEN.

ADDISON'S Cato.

8. But desperate is their doom whom doubt has driven
To censure fate, and pious hope forego;
Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,
Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,
But frown on all who pass, a monument of woe.

BEATTIE'S Minstrel.

9. Mine after-life! what is mine after-life?

My day is closed! the gloom of night is come!

A hopeless darkness settles, o'er my fate!

JOANNA BAILlie.

10. Alas! the breast that inly bleeds,
Has nought to fear from outward blow:
Who falls from all he knows of bliss,
Cares little into what abyss.

11. Go, when the hunter's hand hath wrung From forest cave her shrieking young, And calm the lonely lioness

But soothe not, mock not my distress!

BYRON'S Giaour.

BYRON'S Giaour.

12. Despair defies even despotism; there is
That in my heart would make its way thro' hosts
With levell'd spears.

13.

BYRON'S Two Foscari.

My mother earth!

And thou, fresh breaking day! and you, ye mountains!
Why are ye beautiful! I cannot love ye!
And thou, the bright eye of the universe,
That open❜st over all, and unto all

Art a delight-thou shin'st not on my heart!

14. My solitude is solitude no more,

BYRON'S Manfred.

But peopled with the furies; I have gnash'd
My teeth in darkness till returning morn,
Then curs'd myself at sunset! I have pray'd
For madness as a blessing-'t is denied me!

BYRON'S Manfred.

15. They, who have nothing more to fear, may well
Indulge a smile at that which once appall'd,
As children at discover'd bugbears.

BYRON'S Sardanapatus.

16. Hope is a willing slave-despair is free.

17. One long, loud shriek swell'd on the air,
The thrilling cry of dark despair,
And all was sad and silent there.

R. DAWES.

MRS. C. H. W. ESLING.