"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.
And her modest answer and graceful air,
Show her wise and good as she is fair.
Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:
No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,
But low of cattle and song of birds,
And health, and quiet, and loving words."
3. The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy. The lonely pine upon the mountain-top waves its somber boughs, and cries, "Thou art my sun." And the little meadow viölet lifts its cup of blue, and whispers with its perfumed breath, "Thou art my sun." And the grain in a thousand fields rustles in the wind, and makes answer, "Thou art my sun." And so God sits effulgent in heaven, not for a favored few, but for the universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or so low that he may not look up with child-like confidence and say, "My Father! Thou art mine."
The gate self-opened wide,
On golden hinges turning, as by work
Divine the sovereign Architect had framed.
On a sudden open fly,
With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound,
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.
THE WINNING OF JULIET.
Juliet. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face:
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, Ay:
And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light.
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more truc
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Romeo. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops.
Juliet, O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Romeo. What shall I swear by?
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
Romeo. If my heart's dear love—
Juliet. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden:
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say, It lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Romeo. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Juliet. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
Juliet. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
And yet I would it were to give again.
Romeo. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
Juliet. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
He. Dost thou love wandering? Whither wouldst thou go?
Dream'st thou, sweet daughter, of a land more fair?
Dost thou not love these aye-blue streams that flow?
These spicy forests? and this golden air?
She. Oh, yes, I love the woods, and streams, so gay;
And more than all, O father, I love thee;
Yet would I fain be wandering-far away,
Where such things never were, nor e'er shall bc.
IIe. Speak, mine own daughter with the sun-bright locks!
To what pale, banished region wouldst thou roam?
She. O father, let us find our frozen rocks!
Let's seek that country of all countries-HOME!
He. Seest thou these orange flowers? this palm that rears
Its head up toward heaven's blue and cloudless dome?
She. I dream, I dream; mine eyes are hid in tears;
My heart is wandering round our ancient home.
He. Why, then, we'll go. Farewell, ye tender skies,
Who sheltered us, when we were forced to roam!
She. On, on! Let's pass the swallow as he flies!
Farewell, kind land! Now, father, now-FOR HOME!
Now stood Eliza on the wood-crowned height,
O'er Minden's plains spectatress of the fight;
Sought with bold eye amid the bloody strife
Her dearer self, the partner of her life;
From hill to hill the rushing host pursued,
And viewed his banner, or believed she viewed.
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread,
Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led;
And one fair girl amid the loud alarm
Slept on her kerchief, cradled on her arm:
While round her brows bright beams of honor dart,
And love's warm eddies circle round her heart.
2. Near and more near the intrepid beauty pressed,
Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest,
Heard the exulting shout-"They run!-they run!"
"He's safe!" she cried, "he's safe! the battle's won !"
-A ball now hisses through the airy tides,
(Some Fury wings it, and some Demon guides,)
Parts the fine locks her graceful head that deck,
Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck:
The red stream issuing from her ǎzure veins,
Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.
"Ah me!" she cried, and sinking on the ground,
Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound:
Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn,
Wait, gushing life, oh! wait my love's return!".
Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far,
The angel, Pity, shuns the walks of war;—
66 Oh spare, ye war-hounds, spare their tender age!
On me, on me," she cried, "exhaust your rage!"
Then with weak arms, her weeping babes caressed,
And sighing, hid them in her blood-stained vest.
4. From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies,
Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes:
Eliza's name along the camp he calls,
Eliza echoes through the canvas walls;
Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps tread,
O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,
Vault o'er the plain-and in the tangled wood-
Lo! dead Eliza-weltering in her blood!
Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds,
With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds,
"Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand,
"Mamma's asleep upon the dew-cold sand;
Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake-
Why do you weep? Mamma will soon awake."
"She'll wake no more!" the hopeless mourner cried,
Upturned his eyes, and clasped his hands, and sighed;
Stretched on the ground, awhile entranced he lay,
And pressed warm kisses on the lifeless clay;
And then upsprung with wild convulsive start,
And all the father kindled in his heart:
"Oh, Heaven!" he cried, "my first rash vow forgive!
These bind to earth, for these I pray to live."
Round his chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest,
And clasped them sobbing, to his aching breast.
AUSES are suspensions of the voice in reading and speaking, used to mark expectation and uncertainty, and to give significance and effect to expression. 2. This Section embraces bōth grammatical and rhetorical pauses, and suspensive quantity.
Grammatical
Pauses Rhetorical
Suspensive Quantity
3. Pauses differ greatly in their frequency and their length. In lively conversation and rapid argument, they are comparatively few and short. In serious, dignified, and pathetic speaking, they are far more numerous, and more prolonged. They are often more eloquent than words.
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