2. So ships in winter seas now sliding sink Adown the steepy wave, then toss'd on high Ride on the billows, and defy the storm.

3.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

Behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge.

SHAKSPEARE.

4. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While, proudly riding o'er the azure realm,

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

5. The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew,
As glad to bear him from his native home;
And fast the white rocks faded from his view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

6. She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.

BYRON'S Corsair.

7. The cloven billow flash'd from off her prow, In furrows form'd by that majestic plough.

BYRON'S Island.

8. She comes majestic with her swelling sails,
The gallant bark; along her watery way
Homeward she drives before the favouring gales;
Now flirting at their length the streamers play,
And now they ripple with the ruffling breeze.

SOUTHEY.

SAILOR.

1. O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!

BYRON'S Corsair. 476

SATIETY- SURFEIT.

2. Long have they voyag'd o'er the distant seas;
And what a heart-delight they feel at last
So many toils, so many dangers past-
To view the port desir'd, he only knows
Who on the stormy deep for many a day
Hath toss'd, aweary of his ocean way,
And watch'd all-anxious every wind that blows.

3. I love the sailor; - his eventful life

SOUTHEY.

His generous spirit - his contempt of danger -
His firmness in the gale, the wreck, and strife; -
And, though a wild and reckless ocean-ranger,
God grant he make that port, when life is o'er,
Where storms are hush'd, and billows break no more!

REV. WALTER COLTON.

SHAKSPEARE.

SATIETY - SURFEIT.

1. As surfeit is the father of much fast,

So every scope, by the immoderate use,
Turns to restraint.

2. They surfeited with honey; and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little
More than a little is by much too much.

3. Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly;

Nor deem'd, before his little day was done,
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befel:

He felt the fulness of satiety.

SHAKSPEARE.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

RANDOLPH.

SATIRE.

1. I'm one whose whip of steel can with a lash
Imprint the characters of shame so deep,
Even in the brazen forehead of proud sin,
That not eternity shall wear it out.

2. Instructive satire! true to virtue's cause! Thou shining supplement of public laws!

3. If satire charms, strike faults, but spare the man;
'Tis dull to be as witty as you can.
Satire recoils whenever charg'd too high;
Round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
As the soft plume gives swiftness to the dart,
Good-breeding sends the satire to the heart.

4. Curs'd be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe,
Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear,
Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear.

YOUNG.

YOUNG.

POPE.

5. When satire flies abroad on falsehood's wing,
Short is her life, and impotent her sting;
But when to truth allied, the wound she gives
Sinks deep, and to remoter ages lives.

CHURCHILL.

6. Prepare for rhyme - I'll publish, right or wrong; Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

BYRON'S English Bards, &c.

SAVAGE.- (See INDIAN.)

SCANDAL.- (See Gossip.)

478

SCENERY-SCEPTICISM - UNBELIEF.

SCENERY.

1. The haughtiest breast its wish might bound, Through life to dwell delighted here;

Nor could on earth a spot be found,

To Nature and to me so dear.

4. 'T is distance lends enchantment to the view, And clothes the mountain in its azure hue.

CAMPBELL.

5. Amid the ancient forests of a land,
Wild, gloomy, vast, magnificently grand.

W. H. BURLEIGH.

6. How softly that green bank sloped down from the hill
To the spot where the fountain grew suddenly still!
How cool was the shadow the long branches gave,
As they hung from the willow, and dipp'd in the wave!
And then each pale lily, that slept in the stream,
Rose and fell with a wave, as if stirr'd by a dream.

MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.

SCEPTICISM - UNBELIEF.

A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man.

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts.

2. But you are learn'd; in volumes deep you sit;
Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords
Light, but not heat; it leaves you undevout,
Frozen at heart, while speculation shines.

....

YOUNG'S Night Thoughts. 3. A Christian is the highest style of man;

And is there who the blessed cross wipes off
As a foul blot from his dishonour'd brow? -
If angels tremble, 't is at such a sight.

YOUNG's Night Thoughts.

4. Hast never seen the death-bed of th' unbeliever? 'T was anguish, terror, darkness without bow:

But O, it had a most convincing tongue,

A potent oratory, that secur'd

Most mute attention.

POLLOK's Course of Time.

5. A fugitive from heaven and prayer, He mock'd at all religious fear, Deep-scienc'd in the mazy lore

Of mad Philosophy.

SCHOOL - TEACHER.

From Horace.

1. Beside yon straggling fence, that skirts the way,

With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,

The village master taught his little school.

GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village.

2. A man severe he was, and stern to view:
I knew him well, and every truant knew.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was a fault.

GOLDSMITH's Deserted Village.