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340

IMPRISONMENT-PRISON, &c.

2. A prison is in all things like a grave, Where we no better privileges have Than dead men; nor so good.

BISHOP KING.

3. They say this is the dwelling of distress,
The very mansion-house of misery ;-
To me, alas! it seems but just the same
With that more spacious jail the busy world.

4. Look on him-through his dungeon-grate,
Feebly and cold, the morning light
Comes stealing round him, dim and late,
As if it loath'd the sight.
Reclining on his strawy bed,
His hand upholds his drooping head-
His bloodless cheek is seam'd and hard,
Unshorn his grey, neglected beard,
And o'er his bony fingers flow
His long, dishevell'd locks of snow.

BELLER.

J. G. WHITTIER.

5. What has the grey-hair'd prisoner done?
Has murder stain'd his hands with gore?
Not so; his crime's a fouler one-
God made the old man poor!
For this he shares a felon's cell,
That fittest earthly type of hell!

J. G. WHITTIER.

6. High walls and huge the body may confine,
And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze,
And massive bolts may baffle his design,
And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways:
Yet scorns the immortal mind this base control!
No chains can bind it, and no cells enclose;
Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole,
And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes!

7. Conceive a crowd of wretched men,

Confin'd, like beasts, in such a den!-
Through their barr'd windows they can see
Birds, beasts, and men, all blithe and free:
They view the azure sky serene,
They gaze on the surrounding scene,
And hope-but hope too late, alas !-
That they from "durance vile" may pass,
To the free atmosphere of life,
Its cares and struggles, toil and strife.

J. T. WATSON.

8. Yet prisons-though it is too true

They're evils-still are blessings too;
For, without then, this world would be
One scene of crime and anarchy.

J. T. WATSON.

IMPUDENCE.

1. He that has but impudence,

To all things has a fair pretence;
And, put among his wants but shame,
To all the world may lay his claim.

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

2. Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.

ROSCOMMON.

3. To glory some advance a lying claim,
Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame;
Their front supplies what their ambition lacks :
They know a thousand lords, behind their backs.

4. With that dull, rooted, callous impudence,
Which, dead to shame, and every nicer sense,
Ne'er blush'd; uhless, in spreading vice's snares,
He blunder'd on some virtue unawares.

YOUNG.

CHURCHILL. 342

INCREDULITY - INDIAN, &c.

INCREDULITY. - (See CREDULITY.)

INDIAN - SAVAGE.

1. Lo! the poor Indian whose untutor'd mind

Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way;
Yet simple nature to his hope has given,
Behind the cloud-topp'd hills, an humbler heaven.

POPE'S Essay on Man.

2. Where beasts with man divided empire claim.

3. Is not the red man's wigwam home
As dear to him as costly dome?
Is not his lov'd one's smile as bright

As the proud white man's worshipp'd light?

GOLDSMITH.

MRS. M. ST. LEON LOUD.

4. True, they have vices such are nature's growth, But only the barbarian's-we have both.

BYRON'S Island.

5. Shall not one line lament the lion race,
For us struck out from sweet creation's face?
Freedom-the self-same freedom we adore,
Bade them defend their violated shore.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

6. He saw-and, maddening at the sight,
Gave his bold bosom to the fight;
To tiger rage his soul was driven;
Mercy was neither sought nor given;-
The pale man from his land must fly;
He would be free-or he would die.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

7. But the doom'd Indian leaves behind no trace
To save his own, or serve another's race;
With his frail breath his power has pass'd away,
His deeds, his thoughts, are buried with his clay.

8. Alas, for them! their day is o'er,

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

Their fires are out from shore to shore;
No more for them the wild deer bounds-
The plough is on their hunting grounds.
The pale man's axe rings thro' their woods,
The pale man's sail skims o'er their floods;
Their pleasant springs are dry;
Their children - look, by power oppress'd,
Beyond the mountains of the West-
Their children go-to die!

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

INDIFFERENCE.

1. I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love, as I was wont to have.

2.

Not the basilisk
More deadly to the sight than is to me
The cool ingenious eye of frozen kindness.

3. Let me this fondness from my bosom tear;
Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair :
Come, cool Indifference, and heal my breast;
Wearied, at length, I seek thy downy rest
Not all her arts my steady soul shall move,
And, she shall find, indifference conquers love.

...

SHAKSPEARE.

GAY.

LORD LYTTLETON.

4. The one deep cloud, that darkens every sky, Is chang'd affection's cold, averted eye.

344

INDIGENCE-POVERTY.

5. I once was quick of feeling that is o'er.

6. I trust the frown thy features wear
Ere long into a smile will turn;
I would not, that a face so fair
As thine, belov'd, should look so stern.

BYRON.

W. LEGGETT.

7. Your coldness I heed not, your frown I defy;
Your affection I need not - the time has gone by,
When a blush or a smile on that cheek could beguile
My soul from its safety, with witchery's smile.

MRS. OSGOOD.

INDIGENCE - POVERTY.

1. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm !
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?

2.

SHAKSPEARE.

Famine is in thy cheeks;

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

Need and oppression stareth in thine eyes;
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery ;-

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.

3. A begging prince what beggar pities not?

4. Think, too, in what a woful plight

The wretch must be, whose pocket's light;
Are not his hours by want deprest?
Penurious cares corrode his breast;
Without respect, or love, or friends,
His solitary day descends.

GAY's Fables.

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