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15 SCOTLAND

Give me but one hour of Scotland,

Let me see it ere I die.

WM. E. AYTOUN–Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers —Charles Edward at Versailles. L. 111.

16 Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots Frae Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's. BURNs—On Capt. Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland.

17 O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent; Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content. BURNs—Cotter's Saturday Night. St. 20.

18 It's guid to be merry and wise, It's guid to be honest and true, It's guid to support Caledonia's cause, And bide by the buff and the blue! BURNS-Here's a Health to Them that's Awa’.

19 Only a few industrious Scots perhaps, who indeed are dispersed over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there are no greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out on't, in the world, than they are. And for my own part, I would a hundred thousand of them were there [Virginial for we are all one countrymen now, ye know, and we should find ten times more comfort of them there than we do here. CHAPMAN–Eastward Ho. Act III. Sc. 2. Written by CHAPMAN, JoNsoN, MARston. JAMEs I was offended at the reflexion on Scotchmen and the authors were threatened with imprisonment. Extract now found only in a few editions.

20 The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride; True is the charge, nor by themselves denied. Are they not then in strictest reason clear, Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here? CHURCHILL-Prophecy of Famine. L. 195.

21 The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high-road that leads him to England. SAMUEL Johnson—Boswell's Life of Johnson. Vol. II. Ch. W. 1763.

22 In all my travels I never met with any one Scotchman but what was a man of sense. I believe everybody of that country that has any, leaves it as fast as they can. FRANCIS LockIER—Scotchmen.

23 O Caledonial stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and sh wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand! Sgro, Law of the Last Minstrel. Canto VI. St. 2.

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And, w seekers of the best, 13

We come backladen from our quest, So stands the statue that enchants the world, To find that all the sages said So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,

Is in the Book our mothers read. WHITTIER—Miriam.

1 SCULPTURE

The stone unhewn and cold
Becomes a living mould,
The more the marble wastes
The more the statue grows.
MICHAEL ANGELo—Sonnet. MRS. HENRY
Roscoe's trans.

2 - Ex quovis ligno non fit Mercurius. Mercury is not made out of any block of wood. Quoted by APPULEIUs as a saying of PYTHAGORAS.

3. A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

BRYANT—The Flood of Years.

4

Not from a vain or shallow thought

His awful Jove young Phidias brought. EMERSON.—The Problem.

5

In sculpture did ever anybody call the Apollo a fancy piece? Or say of the Laocoön how it might be made different? A masterpiece of art has in the mind a fixed place in the chain of being, as much as a plant or a crystal.

EMERSON.—Society and Solitude. Art.

6 Expede Herculem. From the feet, Hercules. HERODOTUS. Bk. IV. Sec. LXXXII. PLUTARCH. As quoted by AULUs GELLIUS. I. 1. DioGENEs. W

7 Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire; Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings.

LoNGFELLow—Mi Angelo. Pt. III. 5.

8 Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.

LoNGFELLow—Michael Angelo. Pt. III. 5.

9. And the cold marble leapt to life a God. H. H. MILMAN–The Belvedere Apollo.

10 The Paphian Queen to Cnidos made repair Across the tide to see her image there: Then looking up and round the prospect wide, When did Praxiteles see me thus? she cried. PLATO. In Greek Anthology.

11 Then marble, soften’d into life, grew warm. Pope—Second Book of Horace. Ep. I. L. 146.

12 The sculptor does not work for the anatomist,

but for the common observer of life and nature. RUSKIN–True and Beautiful. Sculpture.

The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Thomson–The Seasons. Summer. L. 1,346. 14

The marble index of a mind forever

Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone. WoRDsworth—The Prelude. Bk. III.

15 SEA BIRD

How joyously the young sea-mew
Lay dreaming on the waters blue,
Whereon our little bark had thrown
A little shade, the only one;
But shadows ever man pursue.
E. B. BROWNING—The Sea-Mew.

16 Wainly the fowler's eye Mightmark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. BRYANT—To a Water Fowl.

17 Up and down! Up and down! From the base of the wave to the billow's crown; And amidst the flashing and feathery foam The Stormy Petrel finds a home, A home, if such a place may be, For her who lives on the wide, wide sea, On the c ice, in the frozen air, And only seeketh her rocky lair To warm her young and to teach them spring At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing! BARRY CORNWALL-The Stormy Petrel. 18 Between two seas the sea-bird's wing makes halt, Wind-weary; while with lifting head he waits For breath to reinspire him from the gates That open still toward sunrise on the vault High-domed of morning. winburne—Songs of the Spring Tides. Introductory lines to Birthday to Victor Hugo.

19 SEASONS (UNCLAssIFIED)

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sin
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare bran
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch . .
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops

fall,

Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

CoLoRIDGE–Frost at Midnight.

20 Our seasons have no fixed returns,

Without our will they come and go; At noon our sudden summer burns,

Ere sunset all is snow.

Low ELL–To —.

21 Autumn to winter, winter into o Spring into summer, summer into fallSo rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move. D. M. MULock—Immutable.

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1. If you have hitherto conceal’d this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still. And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue. Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 249.

2 But that I am forbid, To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul.

Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 5. L. 13.

3 Two may keep counsel, putting one away. Romeo and Juliet. Act II. Sc. 4. L. 209. (See also CHAUCER)

4 Two may keep counsel when the third's away. Titus Andronicus. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 144. (See also CHAUCER)

5 Under the rose, since here are none but friends, (To own the truth) we have some private ends. Swift—Epilogue to a Benefit Play for the Distressed Weavers. (See also BRowNE)

6 Miserum est tacere cogi, quod cupias logui. You are in a pitiable condition when you ‘have to conceflwhat vou wish to tell. SYRUs—Marims.

7 Let your left hand turn away what your right hand attracts. Talmud. Sota. 47.

8 Tacitum vivit sub pectore vulnus. The secret wound still lives within the breast. VERGIL–AEmeid. IV. 67.

SELF-EXAMINATION

As I walk'd by myself, I talk'd to myself
And myself replied to me;
And the questions myself then put to myself,
With their answers }. to thee.
BARNARD BARTON.—Colloquy with Myself.
Appeared in Youth's Instructor, Dec., 1826.
10
Summe up at night what thou hast done by day;
And in the morning what thou hast to do.
Dresse and undresse thy soul; mark the decay
And growth of it; if, with thy watch, that too
Be down then winde up both; since we shall be
Most surely judg’d, make thy accounts agree.
HERBERT-The Temple. The Church Porch.
Next to last stanza.
11
One self-approving hour whole years out-weighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas.
Pope—Essay on Man. Ep. IV. L. 249.

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14 Let not soft slumber close your eyes, Before you've collected thrice The train of action through the day! Where have my feet chose out their way? What have I learnt, where'er I've been, From all I've beard, from all I've seen? What have I more that's worth the knowing? What have I done that's worth the doing? What have I sought that I should shun? What duty have I left undone, Or into what new follies run? These self-inquiries are the road That lead to virtue and to God.

Isaac WATTs—Self Examination.

15
There is a luxury in self-dispraise;
And inward self-disparagement affords
To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

WoRDsworth—The Ercursion. Bk. IV.

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To prick us to Julius Caesar. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 123. 23 Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. TENNYSON.—Locksley Hall. L. 33.

24 Selfishness is the only real atheism; aspiration, unselfishness, the only real religion. ZANGwill,—Children of the Ghetto. Bk. II. Ch. 16.

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