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1. Good heaven! that sots and knaves should be so vain,
To wish their vile remembrance may remain !

And stand recorded, at their own request,
To future days, a libel or a jest.

2. Here fabled chiefs, in darker ages born,
Or worthies old, whom arms or arts adorn,
Who cities raised, or tamed a monstrous race,
The walls in venerable order grace :
Heroes in animated marble frown,

And legislators seem to think in stone.


POPE'S Temple of Fame.

3. All that imagination's power could trace,

Breath'd in the Pencil's imitative grace;

O'er all the canvas, form, and soul, and feeling,
That wondrous art infus'd with power of life;

Portray'd each pulse, each passion's might revealing,
Sorrow and joy, life, hatred, fear, and strife.

From the Spanish.

4. This is the pictur'd likeness of my love:
How true to life! It seems to breathe and move;
Fire, love, and sweetness o'er each feature melt;
The face expresses all the spirit felt;

Here, while I gaze within those large, dark eyes,
I almost see the living spirit rise;

While lights and shadows, all harmonious, glow,
And heavenly radiance settles on that brow.
And then that mouth!-how tranquil its repose!
Sleeping in fragrance, like a sleeping rose;
It seems the ruby gate of love and bliss,
Just form'd to murmur sighs, to smile, and kiss!

5. His pencil was striking, resistless and grand;
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;
Still born to improve us in every part,

His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.

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1. Passions are liken'd best to floods and streams;
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb;
So, when affection yields discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.

2. A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

3. Affection is a coal that must be cool'd, Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire.

4. As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care,
On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear,
The surest virtues thus from passions shoot,
Wild nature's vigour working at the root.



POPE'S Essay on Man.



5. The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still.

6. Like mighty rivers, with resistless force
The passions rage, obstructed in their course,
Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore,
And drown those virtues which they fed before.

7. The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.

8. When headstrong passion gets the reins of reason,
The force of nature, like too strong a gale,
For want of ballast, oversets the vessel.





9. While passions glow, the heart, like heated steel, Takes each impression, and is worked at pleasure.

YOUNG'S Busiris.

10. Then shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind;

Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame, that skulks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,

That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visag'd, comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.

11. His soul, like bark with rudder lost,
On passion's changeful tide was toss'd;
Nor vice nor virtue had the power
Beyond the impression of the hour:-
And, Oh, when passion rules, how rare
The hours that fall to virtue's share!


SCOTT's Rokeby.

12. How terrible is passion! how our reason

Falls down before it, while the tortur'd frame,
Like a ship dash'd by fierce encountering tides,
And of her pilot spoil'd, drives round and round,
The sport of wind and wave.

BARFORD'S Virgin Queen.

13. The passions are a numerous crowd, Imperious, positive, and loud.

14. O, how the passions, insolent and strong,
Bear our weak minds their rapid course along;
Make us the madness of their will obey;
Then die, and leave us to our griefs a prey!

15. Ah! within my bosom beating,

Varying passions wildly reign;
Love, with proud resentment meeting,
Throbs, by turn, with joy and pain!

16. As rolls the ocean's changing tide, So human passions ebb and flow.

17. The keenest pangs the wretched find
Are rapture to the dreary void,

The leafless desert of the mind,
The waste of feelings unemploy'd.




BYRON'S Giaour.

18. The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name;

But mine was like the lava-flood

That boils in Etna's breast of flame.

19. For on his brow the swelling vein
Throbb'd, as if back upon his brain
The hot blood ebb'd and flow'd again.

BYRON'S Giaour.

BYRON'S Parisina.



20. There are some feelings time cannot benumb.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

21. An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

22. Admire-exult - despise - laugh — weep—for here There is much matter for all feeling.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

23. My passions were all living serpents, and Twin'd, like the gorgons, round me.

BYRON'S Werner.

24. It was not strange; for in the human breast Two master passions cannot co-exist.

25. The wildest ills that darken life
Are rapture to the bosom's strife;
The tempest, in its blackest form,
Is beauty to the bosom's storm.



26. And underneath that face, like summer's ocean's,

Its lip as noiseless, and its cheek as clear,
Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions,
Love-hatred-pride-hope-sorrow-all, save fear.

27. But, all in vain, to thought's tumultuous flow
I strive to give the strength of glowing words;
The waves of feeling, tossing to and fro,

In broken music o'er my heart's loose chords,
Give but their fainting echoes from my soul,

As thro' its silent depths their wild, swift currents roll.

28. "Tis chainless as the mountain tide,

That its resistless way doth force,
O'er crags and cliffs on either side,
Right onward in its headlong course.


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