Like a centinel,
wakes in dread,

When ev'ry thing alarms it!
Who sleeps upon his watch, it

Ev'n at a breath of wind. Havard's Scanderbeg.

There's nought so monstrous, but the mind of man,
In some conditions, may be brought to approve.
Theft, sacrilege, treason, and parricide,
When flattering opportunity enticed,

And desperation drove, have been committed
By those who once would start to hear them named.

Lillo's Fatal Curiosity.

How guilt, once harbour'd in the conscious breast,
Intimidates the brave, degrades the great.

Dr. Johnson's Irene.

'Tis guilt alone

Like brain-sick phrenzy, in its feverish mood,
Fills the light air with visionary terrors,

And shapeless forms of fear. Frances's Eugenia.

Thou'st done an evil deed

For sin is of the soul, and thine is tainted.

Maturin's Bertram, a. 3, s. 2.

To what gulphs

A single deviation from the track

Of human duties leads even those who claim
The homage of mankind as their born due,
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

Byron's Sardanapalus, a. 4, s. 1.

Say first what cause

Mov'd our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favour'd of Heav'n so highly to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the world beside.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 1.

To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds

Timorous and slothful. Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 2.

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe,
That all was lost.

groan,

Ibid, b. 9.

Earth trembled from her entrails, as again
In pangs, and Nature gave a second
Sky low'r'd, and muttering thunder, some sad drops
Wept at completing of the mortal sin.

Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly,
When consternation turns the good man pale?

Ibid.

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 9.

But many a crime, deem'd innocent on earth,
Is register'd in Heav'n, and these no doubt,
Have each their record, with a curse annext.

Cowper's Task, b. 6.

H.

HAPPINESS.

I see there is no man but

may

make his Paradise,

And it is nothing but his love and dotage

Upon the world's foul joys, that keeps him out on't, For he that lives retir'd in mind and spirit,

Is still in Paradise.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Nice Valour.

They live too long, who happiness out-live:
For life and death are things indifferent;
Each to be chose, as either brings content.

Dryden's Indian Emperor.

Oft when blind mortals think themselves secure,
In height of bliss, they touch the brink of ruin.
Thomson's Agamemnon, a. 1, s. 7.

"Tho' duller thoughts succeed,

The bliss e'en of a moment, still is bliss.

Thou would'st not of her dew-drops spoil the thorn Because her glory will not last till noon;

Nor still the lightsome gambols of the colt,

Whose neck to-morrow's yoke will gall. Fye on't! If this be wise, 'tis cruel.

Joanna Baillie's Beacon, a. 1, s. 2.

It is ever thus with happiness:

It is the gay to-morrow of the mind

That never comes. Proctor's Mirandola, a. 3, s. 1.

On earth he first beheld

Our two first parents, yet the only two
Of mankind, in the happy garden plac'd,
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love,
Uninterrupted joy, unrival'd love.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 3.

All things smil'd,

With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.

Ibid. b. 8.

Bliss! sublunary bliss!-proud words and vain!
Implicit treason to divine decree!

A bold invasion of the rights of Heav'n!
I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air.
O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace!
What darts of agony had miss'd my heart!

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1.

How sad a sight is human happiness,

To those whose thought can pierce beyond an hour!

Ibid.

Know smiler! at thy peril art thou pleas'd;
Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain.
Misfortune, like a creditor severe,
But rises in demand for her delay;
She makes a scourge of past posterity,
To sting thee more, and double thy distress.

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1.

The spider's most attenuated thread

Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie

On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

Ibid.

Nature, in zeal for human amity,

Denies, or damps, an undivided joy.

Joy is an import; joy is an exchange;
Joy flies monopolists: it calls for two;

Rich fruit! Heav'n planted! never pluck't by one.

Ibid, n. 2.

O how portentous is prosperity!

How, comet-like, it threatens, while it shines!

Ibid, n. 5.

What makes man wretched? Happiness deny'd?
Lorenzo! no: 'tis happiness disdain'd.

She comes too meanly drest to win our smile;
And calls herself Content, a homely name!
Our flame is transport, and content our scorn.
Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her,
And weds a toil, a tempest, in her stead.

Beware what earth calls happiness; beware
All joys, but joys that never can expire.
Who builds on less than an immortal base,

Ibid.

Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. Ibid.

Our aim is happiness; 'tis yours, 'tis mine,
He said, 'tis the pursuit of all that live:
Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd.

But they the widest wander from the mark,
Who through the flowery path of sauntering joy
Seek this coy goddess; that from stage to stage
Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue.

Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, b. 4.

The harvest treasure's all

Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms,
Sure to the swain; the circling fence shut up;
And instant winter's utmost rage defy'd.
While, loose to festive joy, the country round
Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth,
Shook to the wind their cares.

Thomson's Seasons-Autumn.

Oh: then the longest summer's day

Seem'd too, too much in haste: still the full heart
Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness
Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed,
Not to return, how painful the remembrance!

Blair's Grave.

Blessed, thrice blessed days! but ah! how short!
Bless'd as the pleasing dreams of holy men,
But fugitive, like those, and quickly gone.
O slippery state of things! What sudden turns,
What strange vicissitudes, in the first leaf
Of man's sad history! to-day most happy;
And, ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject!
How scant the space between these vast extremes!

HATRED.

I see thou art implacable, more deaf

Ibid.

To pray'rs, than winds and seas; yet winds to seas Are reconcil'd at length, and sea to shore:

Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages,

Eternal tempest never to be calm'd.

Milton's Samson Agonistes.