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Who the day for toil hast given,
For rest the night;
Now I lay me down to take my sleep,
“ NEW ENGLAND PRIMER."
THE SLUGGARD. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard : I heard him com
plain, “ You have waked me too soon, I must slumber
again ; As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy
head. “A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;' Thus he wastes half his days and his hours without
number; And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.
I passed by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drink
ing; But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves think
ing Said I then to my heart, “Here's a lesson for me, This man's but a picture of what I might be ; But thanks to my friends for their care in my
breeding, Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.
Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,
The man to solitude accustom'd long,
Solitude, though silent as light, is like the light, the mightiest of agencies, for solitude is essential to man. All mon come into this world alone, all leave it alone.
Solitude is the parent of reflection.
I was never less alone than when by myself.
He was never less at leisure than when he was at leisure, nor less alone than when he was alone.
They are never alone that are accompanied by noble thoughts.
-SIR P. SIDNEY.
All mischief comes from our not being able to be alone ; hence play, luxury, dissipation, wine, ignoranca, calumny, envy, forgetfulness of one's self and of God.
Solitude shows us what we should be,
It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own ; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
Lovely indeed art thou, O Solitude !
And good and bad to thy calm refuge fly:
For the deep forest and the starry sky
For, like those poisons whose fine quality
Can still the throb of corporal agony,
Thus lulls it in a sweet but dire repose,
And Heaven's best purposes in life foregoes,
Supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk during his solitary abode on the island of Juan Fernandes.
I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,
I am Lord of the fowl and the brute.
That sages have seen in thy face?
Than reign in this horrible place.
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
* From Selections by Emily Taylor.