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Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been; 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. 3. L. 74.
See what a rent the envious Casca made.
Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 179. 3
You are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. Twelfth Night. Act I. Sc. 5. L. 259.
If ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't.
Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 448.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
While I deduce,
THOMSON—The Seasons. Spring. L. 576.
15 List—'twas the cuckoo_0, with what delight Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though
WORDSWORTH—The Cuckoo at Laverna.
O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
(See also SHELLEY under LARK)
CURIOSITY 17 Each window like a pill’ry appears, With heads thrust through nail'd by the ears. BUTLER—Hudibras. Pt. II. Canto III. L
And now I hear its voice again,
And still its message is of peace,
It sings of love that will not cease, For me it never sings in vain. FRED'K LOCKER-LAMPSON. The Cuckoo.
The poorest of the sex have still an itch
DRYDEN-Sixth Satire of Juvenal. L. 762.
Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Companions of the spring.
to MICHAEL BRUCE.
Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
to MICHAEL BRUCE. Arguments in favor
P. 469. 10 The cuckoo builds not for himself. Antony and Cleopatra. Act II. Sc. 6. L. 28.
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay your golden cushion
down; Rise up! come to the window, and gaze with all
the town! JOHN G. LOCKHART—The Bridal of Andella.
I saw and heard, for we sometimes, Who dwell this wild, constrained by want, come
forth To town or village nigh, nighest is far, Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear, What happens new; fame also finds us out.
MILTON—Paradise Regained. Bk. I. L. 330.
And being fed by us you used us so
The cuckoo then on every tree,
Love's Labour's Lost. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 908.
Platon estime qu'il y ait quelque vice d'impiété à trop curieusement s'enquerir de Dieu et du monde.
Plato holds that there is some vice of impiety in enquiring too curiously about God and the world. MONTAIGNE—Essays. Bk. II. Ch. XII.
(See also HAMLET)
But to my mind, though I am native here,
Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 4. L. 15.
23 That monster, custom,
is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on.
Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 161.
The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny
dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
COWPER-Tirocinium. L. 251.
11 Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate, In all things ruled-mind, body, and estate; In pain, in sickness, we for cure apply To them we know not, and we know not why. CRABBE—Tale III. The Gentleman Farmer.
Che l'uso dei mortali è come fronda.
The customs and fashions of men change like leaves on the bough, some of which go and others come. DANTE-Paradiso. XXVI. 137.
'Tis nothing when you are used to it.
SWIFT-Polite Conversation. Dialogue III.
There is a tiny yellow daffodil,
OSCAR WILDE—The Burden of Stys.
We have short time to stay as you,
We have as short a spring;
As you or anything.
HERRICK-Daffadills. When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head t'wards me, Guesse I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed. HERRICK–Hesperides. Divination by a Daf
fadill. 7 "O fateful flower beside the rillThe Daffodil, the daffodil!"
JEAN INGELOW—Persephone. St. 16. It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry, For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky, And when down the midnight the owl calls
"to-whooo! Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too; Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to
climb, So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time.
CLINTON ŠCOLLARD—Daffodil Time.
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air.
BURNS— Luve Will Venture In.
Even thou who mournst the daisy's fate, That fate is thine--no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,
Shall be thy doom!
(See also YOUNG under RUIN)
Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 118.
10 When the face of night is fair in the dewy downs And the shining daffodil dies.
TENNYSON-Maud. Pt. III. St. 1.
When cold and shrill,
Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune
You may wear your virtues as a crown,
As you walk through life serenely, And grace your simple rustic gown
With a beauty more than queenly.
Though only one for you shall care,
The Rose has but a Summer reign,
MONTGOMERY—The Daisy. On Finding One in PHEBE CARY-The Fortune in the Daisy.
Bloom on Christmas Day.
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy and sorrow,
The forest through.
WORDSWORTH–To the Daisy.
The poet's darling,
WORDSWORTH-To the Daisy.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
WORDSWORTH–To the Daisy.
Thou unassuming Commonplace
WORDSWORTH–To the Same Flower.
This dance of death which sounds so musically Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand
Was sure intended for the corpse de ballet. Some random bud will meet;
ANON.On the Danse Macabre of Saint-Saëns. Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.
O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing HooD Song.
The same that were taught me ten seasons ago;
The schoolmaster over the land is advancing, All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; Then why is the master of dancing so slow? They only mocked her as they fell.
It is such a bore to be always caught tripping She said: “The daisy but deceives;
In dull uniformity year after year; He loves me not,' he loves me well,'
Invent something new, and you'll set me a skipOne story no two daisies tell.”
ping: Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves I want a new figure to dance with my Dear! Under the daisy's mocking spell.
THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY-Quadrille a la Mode. HELEN HUNT JACKSON—The Sign of the Daisy. 8
My dancing days are done. Spake full well
, in language quaint and olden, BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER—Scornful Lady. One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
Act V. Sc. 3. When he call’d the flowers, so blue and golden,
(See also ROMEO AND JULIET) Stars that on earth's firmament do shine. LONGFELLOW-Flowers.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when (See also HOOD)
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, Need we to prove a God is here;
And all went merry as a marriage bell. The daisy, fresh from nature's sleep,
BYRON—Childe Harold. Canto III. St. 21. Tells of His hand in lines as clear. DR. JOHN Mason GOOD. Found in the Natu On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd;
ralist's Poetical Companion by Rev. EDWARD No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure WILSON.
BYRON—Childe Harold. Canto III. St. 22. Stars are the daisies that begem The blue fields of the sky. D. M. Moir-Dublin University Magazine,
And then he danced;--all foreigners excel Oct., 1852.
The serious Angles in the eloquence (See also Hood)
Of pantomime; he danced, I say, right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense There is a flower, a little flower
A thing in footing indispensable: With silver crest and golden eye,
He danced without theatrical pretence, That welcomes every changing hour,
Not like a ballet-master in the van And weathers every sky.
Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman. MONTGOMERY-A Field Flower.
BYRON-Don Juan. Canto XIV. St. 38.
Another begins, and each merrily goes.
HEINE-Dream and Life.
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
BYRON—The Waltz. L. 29.
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the
dizzying dances Under the orchard-trees and down the path
the meadows; Old folk and young together, and children
mingled among them. LONGFELLOW_Evangeline. Pt. I. IV.
He who esteems the Virginia reel A bait to draw saints from their spiritual weal, And regards the quadrille as a far greater
knavery Than crushing His African children with slavery, Since all who take part in a waltz or cotillon Are mounted for hell on the devil's own pillion, Who, as every true orthodox Christian welí
knows, Approaches the heart through the door of the
toes. LOWELL-Fable for Critics. L. 492.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round.
MILTON—Comus. L. 143.
Endearing Waltz—to thy more melting tune
BYRON—The Waltz. L. 109.
3 Hot from the hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
BYRON—The Waltz. L. 234. What! the girl I adore by another embraced? What! the balm of her breath shall another man
taste? What! pressed in the dance by another's man's
knee? What! panting recline on another than me? Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape
its fine blue, From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous
dew; What you've touched you may take. Pretty
waltzer-adieu! SIR HENRY ENGLEFIELD—The Waltz. Dancing. Such pains, such pleasures now alike are o'er, And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist no more
At their speed behold advancing
Modern men and women dancing; Step and dress alike express Above, below from heel to toe, Male and female awkwardness. Without a hoop, without a ruffle, One eternal jig and shuffle, Where's the air and where's the gait? Where's the feather in the hat? Where the frizzed toupee? and where Oh! where's the powder for the hair? CATHERINE FANSHAWE—The Abrogation of the Birth-Night Ball.
To brisk notes in cadence beating Glance their many-twinkling feet. GRAY-Progress of Poesy. Pt. I. St. 3.
Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,
POPE-Rape of the Lock. Canto V. L. 19.
know the romance, since it's over,
'Twere idle, or worse, to recall;I know you're a terrible rover;
But, Clarence, you'll come to our ball. PRAED-Our Ball.
Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
GOLDSMITH–Traveller. L. 251.
HEINE-Book of Songs. Don Ramiro. St. 23.
I saw her at a country ball;
There when the sound of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall,
Of hands across and down the middle Hers was the subtlest spell by far
Of all that sets young hearts rom ancing: She was our queen, our rose, our star; And when she danced-oh, heaven, her danc
ing! PRAED-The Belle of the Ball.