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prove the soul shares not the body's restHow the lip works, how the bare teeth do grindAnd beaded drops course down his writhen brow.

Maturin's Bertram, a. 2 s. 1.

DRUNKENNESS.

Now

As with new wine intoxicated both

They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel
Divinity within them breeding wings

Wherewith to scorn the earth.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 9.

Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend
The turbulent mirth of wine; nor all the kinds
Of maladies, that lead to death's grim cave,
Wrought by intemperance, joint-racking gout,
Intestine stone, and pining atrophy,

Chill even when the sun with July heats
Fries the scorch'd soil, and dropsy all afloat,

Yet craving liquids.

Philip's Cider, b. 2.

Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk,
Vociferous at once from twenty tongues,

Reels fast from theme to theme; from horses, hounds,
To church or mistress, politics or ghost,

In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd.

Thomson's Seasons-Autumn.

Confus'd above,

Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers,
As if the table even itself was drunk,
Lie a wet broken scene; and wide, below,
Is heap'd the social slaughter: where astride,
The lubber power in filthy triumph sits,
Slumb'rous, inclining still from side to side,
And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morn.
Perhaps some doctor, of tremenduous paunch,

Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink,
Outlives them all; and from his bury'd flock
Retiring, full of rumination sad,

Laments the weakness of these latter times.

Thomson's Seasons-Autumn.

What dextrous thousands just within the goal
Of wild debauch direct their nightly course!
Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days,
No morning admonitions shock the head.
But ah! what woes remain ! life rolls apace,
And that incurable disease, old age,
In youthful bodies more severely felt,

More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime.
Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, b. 2.

Ten thousand casks,

For ever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,
Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.
Drink and be mad then. 'Tis your country bids.
Gloriously drunk obey th' important call,
Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats,
Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more.

Cowper's Task, b. 4.

E.

EARTH.

And fast by hanging in a golden chain
This pendant world, in bigness as a star.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 2.

Earth's days are number'd, nor remote her doom;

As mortal, tho' less transient, than her sons.

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 8.

Where is the dust that has not been alive?
The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors;
From human mould we reap our daily bread.

Young's Night Thoughts, n. 9.

ELOQUENCE.

Ev'ry word he speaks 's a syren's note
To drown the careless hearer.

Beaumont's Sea Voyage.

Oh! I will hearken like a doting mother,

To hear her children prais'd by flatt'ring tongues.

Howard's Duke of Lerma.

Oh, while you speak, methinks a sudden calm,
In spite of all the horror that surrounds me,
Falls upon every frighted faculty,

And puts my soul in tune.

Lee's Brutus.

When he spoke, what tender words he us'd!
So softly, that like flakes of feather'd snow,
They melted as they fell. Dryden's Spanish Friar.

I'll speak the kindest words,

That tongue e'er utter'd, or that heart e'er thought.

Dryden's Indian Emperor.

Your words are like the notes of dying swans,

Too sweet to last!

Dryden's All for Love.

Methought I heard a voice,

Sweet as the shepherd's pipe upon the mountains,
When all his little flock 's at feed before him.

Otway's Orphan.

Ibid.

Who talks of dying in a voice so sweet,

That life's in love with it?

That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers,
And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.

Otway's Venice Preserved.

Oh! I know

Thou hast a tongue to charm the wildest tempers;
Herds would forget to graze, and savage beasts
Stand still, and lose their fierceness, but to hear thee,
As if they had reflection: and by reason,

Forsook a less enjoyment for a greater.

Rowe's Tamerlane.

Oh! speak that again!

Sweet as the syren's tongue those accents fall,
And charm me to my ruin.

Southern's Royal Brother.

As I listen'd to thee

The happy hours passed by us unperceived,
So was my soul fixt to the soft enchantment.

Rowe's Tamerlane.

Now, with fine phrase, and foppery of tongue,
More graceful action, and a smoother tone,
That orator of fable, and fair face,

Will steal on your brib'd hearts.

Young's Brothers, a. 3.

O eloquence! thou violated fair,

How art thou woo'd, and won to either bed
Of right or wrong! O when injustice folds thee,
Dost thou not curse thy charms for pleasing him,
And blush at conquest? Havard's King Charles I.

His tongue

Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash

Maturest counsels.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 2.

Oft the hours

From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away,

While mute attention hung upon his lips.

Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination, b. 2.

EMIGRATION.

Let us depart! the universal sun
Confines not to one land his blessed beams;
Nor is man rooted, like a tree, whose seed
The winds on some ungenial soil have cast
There, where it cannot prosper.

ENGLAND.

Southey's Madoc.

Britain, the queen of isles, our fair possession
Secur'd by nature, laughs at foreign force;
Her ships her bulwark, and the sea her dike,
Sees plenty in her lap, and braves the world.

Havard's King Charles I.

Island of bliss! amid the subject seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up,
At once, the wonder, terror, and delight,
Of distant nations: whose remotest shores
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.
Thomson's Seasons-Summer.

age

A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land,
Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul,
Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward
To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again,
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold.
Bright, at his call, the Age of Men effulg'd,
Of men on whom late time a kindling eye
Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read.
Ibid.-Summer.

The winds and seas are Britain's wide domain ;
And not a sail, but by permission, spreads.

Thomson's Liberty.

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