John F. Addington Sarah Josepha Buell Hale.

A complete dictionary of poetical quotations: comprising the most excellent ... online

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Ooldtmith'e Retaliatien.
My soul.
Like yours, is open to the charms of praise :
There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him who hears it can with honest pride
Confess it just, and listen to its music

Whitehead'e Roman Fathir

I will not sing a mortars praise.
To Thee I consecrate my lays
To whom my powers belong .

Jnmee Monigmmerjf

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Human praise
fs tweet— till envy mars it, and the tonch
or new-won gold stirs op the poises well.

WiUi$'$ Poem$,
The worthlcBsness of common praise —

The dry-rot of the mind.

By which its temple secretly

But fast is undermined !

MU$ LandmCt Poem$,

Alas ! the praise gfiven to the ear
Ne'er was nor e'er can be sincere.

And does but waste the mind

On which it preys : — in vain
Would they in whom the poison lurks

A worthier state attain.

Iftsf Landon'B Poems,


We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good ; so &id we profit,
By losing of our prayers.

SJudcs, AnUmy and Cleopatra.

When holy and devout religious men

Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw tliem thence.

So sweet is zealous contemplation.

Shah, Richard III.
That high all-seer, which I dallied with.
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head.
And given in earnest, what I bcgg'd in jest
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms.

Shaks. Richard III,

If you bethink yourself of any crime,
Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace.
Solicit for it straight

Shakt, Othello,

I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night ;
For I have need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state.
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Shaks, Romeo and Jtdiet,

What then 7 what rests 7

Try what repentance can : what can it not 7

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent 7

Oh wretched state ! oh bosom, black as death !
)h limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Kri more engag'd ! help, angels ! make assay !

Bow, stubborn knees ! and heart, with strings of

Be soft as sinews of the new-bom babe !

All may be well !

Shaks, HamUL

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below :
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go,
\ Shaks, HamU\

Temporal blessings heaven doth oflen share
Unto the wicked, at the good man's prayer.

Man's plea to man is, that ho never more
Will beg ; and that he never begg'd before :
Man's plea to God is, that he did obtain
A former suit, and therefore sues again.
How good a God wc serve ; that, when we sue.
Makes his old gifls th' examples of his new !

They forthwith to the place
Repairing where he.judg'd them, prostrate fell
Before him reverent, and both confess'd
Humbly their fkults, and pardon bcgg'd with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfcign'd, and humiliation meek.

Milton's Paradise Lost,
If by prayer
Incessant I could hope to change the will
Of him who all things can, I would not cease
To weary him with my assiduous cries :
But pray'r against bis absolute decree
No more avails than breath against the wind
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth ;
Therefore to his great bidding I submit

MiUon's Paradise Lost
Sighs now breath *d
Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer
Inspir'd and wing'd for heav'n with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory.

Milton's Paradise Lost,

God gives us what he knows our wants require.
And better things than tliose which we desire :
Some pray for riclies ; riches they obtain ;
But watch'd by robbers, for tlieir wealth are slain
Some pray ftom prison to be freed, and come.
When guilty of their vows, to fall at home ;
Murder'd by Uiose they trusted with their life,
A favour'd servant, or a bosom wife.
Such dear-bought blessings happen every day,
Because we know not for what things to pray.

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite,
His pure tlioughts were borne
Like fumes of sacred incense o'er the clouds,
And wafled thence on angels' wings, thro' ways
Of light to the bright source of all.

Congreve's Mourning Brim

The few that pray at all, pray ofl amiss.

And seeking grace t' improve the prize they hoto.

Would urge a wiser suit, than askmg more.

Cowper's Task

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Or if she joms the serrice, H is to speak ;

Tliro* dreadful silence the pent heart might break ;

Untaught to bear it, women talk away

To God himself^ and fondly think they pray.

Young'9 Lane 9f FmM,
They had no stomach, o*er a grace to nod,
Nor time enough to <^er thanks to God ;
That might be done, they wisely knew.
When they had nothing else to do.

Dr. Wolc€t'» PHer Pindar.
A good raan*B prayers
Will from the deepest dimgeon climb to hearen's

And bring a blessing down.

JomuM BmSWi EtkwM.
Fountain of mercy ! whose pervading eye
Can look within and read what passes there,
Accept my thoughts for thanks ; I have no words.
My soul, o*orfraught with gratitude, rejects
Tlie aid of language — Lord I — behold my heart
Hannah More*$ Mo$€9.
O sad estate
Of human wretchedness ! so weak is man.
So ignorant and blind, that did not God
Sometimes withhold in mercy what we ask,
We should be ruin'd at our own request

Hannah Afors*t itfbses.
His comrade too arose.
And with the outward forms
Of righteousness and prayer insulted God.

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
T is sweeter far for me.
To walk together to the kirk.
With a goodly company ! —
To walk together to the kirk.
And all together pray.
While each to his great Father bends.
Old men, and babes, and Ibving friends,
And youths and maidens gay !

Coieridge*9 Anckut Mariner.
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay.
It hath not been ray use to pray,
With moving lips or bended knees ;
But silently, by slow degrees.
My spirit I to love compose,
1)1 humble trust my eyelids close.

With reverential resignation,
So wish conceived, no thought expressed

Only a seutte of supplication;
A sense o*er all my soul impressed
That 1 am weak, yet not unblest,
Su«ce in me, round me, everywhere
Ktemai strength and wisdom are.

Coleridge** Poem.

O Thou, that hoMest in thy spacioos hands
The destinies of men ! whose eye snrveyB
llieir various actions ! Thou, whose temple stands
Above all temples ! Thou, whom aU men praise !
Of good the author! Tho«, whoso wisdoni sways
The universe ! all bounteous ! grant to me
Tranquillity, and health, and fcngth of days;
Good wiU towards all, and reverenee unto Tbee ;
AUowanee for man*s failings, and of my own
The knowledge and the power to conquer aO
Those evil things to which we are too prone —
Malice, hate, envy — all that ill we caO.
To me a blameless Kfe, Great Spirit, grant.
Nor burdened with much care, nor narrow'd liy
much want Afwrn.

The saints will aid, if men will eaB,
For the blue sky bends over all.

Coleridge'9 ChriwtabeL
Child, amidst the flowers at play.
While the red light fades away ;
Mother, with thine earnest eys
Ever following silently ;
Father, by the breeze of eve
CaU*d thy harvest work to leave ;
Pray ! — ere yet the dark hours be,
Lif^ the heart and bend the knee !

3f rs. Hemami.
Traveller, in the stranger's land.
Far from thine own household band ;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from thin world gone ;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hatli not leave to dwell ;
Sailor on the darkening sea -^
Lift the heart and bend the knee !

3frs. Hemnt,
Warrior, that from battle won

Breathless art at set of sun^
Woman, o*er tlie lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain ;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh.
Kindred by one holy tie,
Heaven*s first star alike ye see-^
Lifl the heart and bend the knee !

Night is the time to pray :

Our Saviour oft vdthdrew
To desert mountains far away.

So will his folk>wer8 do ;
Steal from the throng to haunts nntrod.
And eommune tliere alone with God.

Jamee Montgomerjf,
Any heart, tum*d Godward, feels more joy
In one short hour of prayer, than e'er wan raised
By all the feasts on earth since tlicir fbumlation.

Bailey's FcsCics.

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How ptxrely true, how deeplj warm.

The inly.breath*d appeal may be,
Thoogh adoration wears no form.

In upraisM hand or bended knee*
One spirit fills all bonndless space.

No limit to the when or where ;
And little recks the time or place

That leads the soul to praise or prayer,

EUxa C9qI^9 Psmm.

In desert wilds, in midnight gloom ;

In grateful joy, in trying pain ;
In laughing youth, or nigh the tomb ;

Oh I when is prayer unheard or vain 7

EUxa Cook't Poenu.

In reverence will we speak of those who woo
The ear divine with dear and ready prayer ;
And while their voices cleave the Sabbath air.

Know their bright thoughts are winging heaven*
ward too.

Yet many a one, — ••the latchet of whose shoe "
These might not loose — will often only dare
Lay some poor words between him and despair —

• Father, forgive ! we know not what we do.**

Richard M. MiJme$,

Thank God that yet I live t
In tender mercy, heeding not the prayer
I boldly uttcr*d in my first despair

He would not give
The punishment an erring spirit bravM !

3fr«. Neal.

Night comes, with love upon the breeze.
And the calm ck)ck strikes, stilly, •• ten !**
I start to hear it beat, for then

I know that thou art on thy knees —
And at that hour, wherever thou be.
Ascends to heaven a prayer for me !

WUUi't Pom$.

O, still my fervent prayer will be,

** Heaven's choicest blessings rest on thee.*'

Mi9s GwitL
O, the precious privilege

To the pious given, —
Sending by tlie dove of prayer

Holy words to heaven !
Arrows from the burning sun

Geave the quivering air,—
Swifter, sofUicr, surer on.

Speeds the dove of prayer.
Bearing from the parted Ups

Words of holy love,
fVarm as from the heart they gush*d|

To the throne above !

Even as a fountain, whoso unsullied wave

Wells in the pathless valley, flowing o*er
With silent waters, kissing, as they lave

The pebbles with bright rippling, and the shore
Of matted grass and flowers, — so sofUy pour

The breathings of her bosom, when she prays
Low bow*d before her Maker ; then no more

She muses on the griefs of former days ;
Her fbll heart melts, and flows in heaven*s dis-
solving rays. Perchal

There are God and peace above thee :

Wilt thou languish in despair 7
Tread thy grie& beneath thy feet.

Scale the walls of heaven with prayer •«-
*Tis the key of the apostle.

That opens heaven from below ;
*T is the ladder of the patriarch.

Whereon angels come and go I

Mist Lynch^B Poem*.
When tlie evening shadows gather,

Round about our quiet hearth.
Comes our eldest born unto ua,

Bending humbly to the earth !
And wiUi hands enclasped tightly.

And with meek eyes raised above,
This the prayer he offers nightly

To the source of light and love :
•• Bless my parents, Oh ! my Father !

Bless my little sister dear ;
While I gently take my slumber.

Bo thv guardian angels near !
Should no morning*s dawn e*er greet me,

Beaming brightly from tlie skies.
Thine the eye of love to meet me.

In the path, of Paradise !" ^j^^ ^^ ,,

Our little babe ! our bright^ycd one !

Our youngest, darling joy.
We teach, at evening hour, to kneel

Beside our little boy ;
And though she cannot lisp a word

Nor breathe a simple prayer,
We know her Maker blcHBCth hci

The while she kneelcth there.

Richard Cot, Jt


When knaves come to proferment, they rise «s
Gallows are rais*d in the low countries, one
Upon another's shoulders.

Webster's White Depu

For places in the court, are but like beds
In the hospital; where thi^ man's head lies
At that man's foot, and so lower and lowc-.

WebsUr's Duchets tf Malfu

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1/ on the sudf'en he begins to rite ;

No man that lives can coant his enemies.

Middleton'i Tnck io Catch the OH One,

All preferment
7*hat springs from sin and lust shoots up quickly;
As gafd'ner's crops do in the rott'nest grounds;
So is an means raised from base prostitution,
Even like a salad growing upon a dunghill.

MiddUtotCe Wmnen htvoare Women,
He who cannot merit
Preferment by employments ; let him bare
His throat unto the Turkish cruelty ;
Or die or live a slave without redemption.

John FortPe Ladi/*s Trial
What throngs of great impediments besiege
The virtuous mind ! so thick, they jostle
One another as they come. Hath vice a
Charter got, that none must rise, but such, who
Of the devil*s faction are 7 the way to
Honour is not evermore the way to
Hell : a virtuous man may climb. Let the
Flatterer sell his lies elsewhere, it is
Unthrifty merchandise to change my gold

For breath.

Sir W, DavenanV» Cruel Brother,

T^e press from her fccundous womb
Brought forth the arts of Greece and Rome :
Her offspring, skillM in logic war,
Truth's banner wav*d in open air :
Then monster superstition fled.
And hid in shades its Gorgon head ;
And lawless power the long-kept field,
B/ reason quellM, was fbrc'd to yield.
This nurse of arts, and freedom's fence
To chain, is treason against sense ;
And liberty, thy tliousand tongues
None silence, who design no wrongs ,
For those, who use the gag's restraint.
First rob before they stop comfdaint

Greene's Spleen,
But mightiest of the mighty means.
On which the arm of progress leans,
Man's noblest mission to advance.
His woes assuage, his weal enhance.
His rights enforce, his wrongs redress, —


Dr. Bowring,

•• The Press I" afl lands shall sing ;
'J'he pi ess, the press we bring

Ail lands to blesb .
O pallid Want! O Labour stark!
Rchold, we br>ng the second ark!

The press ! the press ! the press !

Ebenexer EUuitL

Turn to the press — its teeming sheets surrey.
Big with the wonders of each passing day ;
Births, deaths, and weddings, forgeries, fires, and

Harangues and hail-storms, brawls and broken

Where half fledgM bards, on feeble pinions, seek
An immortality of near a week ;
Where cruel eulogists the dead restore.
In maudlin praise to martyr them once more ;
Where rufHan slanderers wreak their coward spite.
And need no venom'd dagger while they write;
While hard to tell, so coarse a daub he lays.
Which sullies most — the slander or the praise,
8prague*$ CurumUif

There are, thank Heaven,
A nobler troop to whom this trust is given ;
Who, all unbrib'd, on Freedom's altar stand,
Faithfbl and firm, bright warders of tlie land.
By them still lifts the press its arm abroad.
To guide all-curious men along life's road ;
To cheer young Genius, Pity's tear to start,
In Truth's bold cause to rouse each fearless heart;
O'er male and female quacks to shake the rod.
And scourge the unsex'd thing that scorns her God:
To hunt corruption from his secret den.
And show the monster up, the gaze of wondering
men. Sprugue*9 Curiosittf


Pride hath no otlier gloss
To show itself, but pride ; for sapplc knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's feesu

Shake, TreUue and Creatida,
Things small as nothing for request's sake only.
He makes important : possess'd he is with great.

And speaks not to himself but with a pride.
That quarrels at first breath.

Shake, Troilue and Creseidm,

He that is proud eats up himscl£ Pride is

His own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle ;

And whatever praises itself but in

The deed, devours the deed in the praise

Shake, Troilue and Cressida,
Why who cries out on pride.
That can therein tax any private party 7
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea.
Till that the very means do ebb.

Shake, Ae ytm like U,
You speak o' the people.
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.


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I wili from henceforth rather be mjsel^
Miglity, and to be i^r*d, than my condition.
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as joung down.
And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud sool ne'er pays, bnt to the prond.
Shakg. Henry JV. Parti.
I am too high bom to be property'd,
To be a secondary at control.
Or useful, and instrument,
To any sorereign.

SJtaks, King John.

How blind is pride ! what eagles are we stUl
In matters that belong to other men,
What beetles in our own?

Chapman's AU FooU.
How poor a thing is pride ! when all, as slaves,
ViSSsT but in their fetters, not their graves.

DaniePi CivU War.

Pride by presumption bred, when at a height.
Encountering with contempt, both march in ire ;
And 'twixt *em bring base cruelty to light j
The loathsome offspring of a hated sire.

Earl of SterUne'B Alexandrian Tragedy.

I *11 offer, and I *11 suffer no abuse,
Because I *m proud ; pride is of mighty use.
The affectation of a pompous name,
Has oft set wits and heroes in a flame :
Volumes, and buildings, and dominions wide.
Are oil the noble monuments of pride.

Croum*8 CaUgula.

Take heed of pride, and curiously consider,

How brittle the foundation is, on which

You labour to advance it Niobe,

Proud of her numerous issue, durst contemn

Latona*s double burthen ; but what followed 7

She was left a childless motlier, and mourn*d to

The beauty you overprize so, time or sickness
Can change to loath'd deformity ; your wealth
The prey of thieves.


** Pride was not made for men ;" a conscious sense
Of guilt, and folly, and their consequence.
Destroys the claim, and to beholders tells.
Here nothing but the shape of manhood dwells.


j^pite of all the ftwls that pride has made.
Pis not on man a useless burthen laid ;
Pnde has ennobled some, and some disgraced ;
It hurts not in itself) but as H is placed ;
When right, its views know none but virtue's

When wrong, it scarcely looks one inch around.


Pride (of all others the most dangerous fault;
Proceeds Oom want of sense, or want of thopght
The men who labour and digest things most.
Will be much apter to despond than boast ;
For if your author be profoundly good,
'T will cost you dear before he 's understood.

In pride, in rcas'ning pride, our error lies ;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell.
Aspiring to be angels men rebel ;
And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of order, sins against th' Eternal cause.

Pope's Essay on Man,

Of all the causes which conspire to blind
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
What the weak head with strongest bias rules.
Is pride, the never.failing vice of fools.

Pope's Essay on Criticism.
The snarler pride,
Plac'd by a mirror, starts, and barks, and bites
At its own image.

Jeffrey's Edwin.

Yes — ^the same sin that overthrew the angels.
And of all sins most easily besets
Mortals the nearest to the angelic nature :
The vile are only vain ; the great are proud.

Byron's Doge of Venice,
What is pride 7 a whizzing rocket
That would emulate a star.


The fiend that man harries

Is k)ve of the Best,
Yawns the Pit of the Dragon

Lit by rays from the Blest;
The Lethe of Nature

Can't trance him again.
Whose soul sees the Perfect

Which his eyes seek in vain.
Pride ruin'd the angels,

Their shame them restores.

Ralph Waldo EmermtM.

She has all

That would ensure an angel's fall ;
But there 's a cool collected look.
As if her pulses beat by book, —
A measured tone, a cold reply,
A management of voice and eye,
A calm, possessed, authentic air,
That leaves a doubt of sofUiess there,

Till look and worship as 1 ma} ,

My fevered thoughts will pass away.


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Ufa, it is hard to put the heart,

Alone and desolate, away,
To cnrl the Up in pride, and pari

With Che kind thou^ta of yesterday
T is strange they know not that the chill

Of their own looks hath made me cold.
That thongrh my words &D seldom, still

Their own proud bearing hath controllM
My better feelings.

Willis's Poems.

Oh ! ask not a home in the mansions of pride.
Where marble shines oat in the pillars and
Thongh the roof be of gold it b brilliantly cold.
And joy may not be fixmd in its torch Jighted
halls. BUxa Cooies Poems,

A prison is a house of care,
A placo where none can thrive,
A tonchstone true to try a friend,
A grare for one alire;
Sometimes a placo of right.
Sometimes a place of wrong,
8«)metimcs a place of rogues and thieves.
And honest men among.

Inseription on Edinburgh TVZbootA.

A prison ! heav'ns, I loath the hated name,
Faminc*s metropolis, the sink of shame,
A nauseous sepulchre, whose craving womb
Hourly inters poor mortals in its tomb ;
By ev'ry plague and ev'ry ill possess'd,
£v*n purgatory itself to thee *8 a jest ;
Emblem of hcD, nursery of vice.
Thou crawling university of lice :
Where wretches numberless to ease their pains,
With smoke and ale delude Uieir pensive chains.
How shall I thee avoid 7 or with what spell
Dissolve th' enchantment of thy magic cell 7
Ev'n Fox himself cant boast so many martyrs,
As yearly fall within thy wretched quarters.
Money I *ve none, and debts I cannot pay.
Unless my vermin will those debts defray.
Not scolding wifb, nor inquisitton^s worse ;
Thou 'rt evVy mischief cramm'd into one curse.

Tom Brounim
How like
A prison 's to a grave I when dead, we are
With solemn pomp brought thither ; and our heirs.
Masking tlieir joy in &lse dissembled tears,
Weep o'er tlic hearse : but earth no sooner covers
•ITie earth brought thillicr, but tliey turn away
Willi inward smiles, tiie dead no more remcmbcrM:
^1 entered into a prinon.

Masiinger's Maid of Honour.

Here's the place
Which menCfor being poor) are sent to stanFe ia^-»
Rude remedy, I trow, for sore disease.
Within these walls, stifled by damp and stench.
Does hope's &ir torch expire ; and at the snufl^
Ere jret t is quite extinct, rude, wild, and wayward
The desperate reveries of wild despair.
Kindling their hcU.born cressets, like to decda
That the poor captive would have died ere practised.
Till bondage sunk his soul to this condition.

A prison is in all things like a grave.
Where we no better privUeges have
Than dead men ; nor so good. The soul once flod
Lives fieer now, than when she was cloist'red
In walls of flesh ; and though she organs want
To act her swifl designs, yet all will grant
Her faculties more clear, now separate,
Than if the same conjunction, which of late
Did marry her to earth, had stood in force ;
Incapable of death, or of divorce ;
But an imprisoned mind, though living, dies.
And, at one time, feels two captivities :
A narrow dungeon which her body holds.
But narrower body, which herself enf<ilds.

Dr. ^tiig. Bishop Chiehewtm'
They say tliis is the dweUing of distress.
The very mansion-house of misery I
To me, alas ! it seems but just the same.
With that more spacious jail — the busy world !
BtUef*s Injured Innocence,

They enter'd — 'twas a prison room
Of stem serenity and gloom.

SeoU's Lady of (he Lake,
A ffclon's cell —
The fittest earthly type of hell !


And faint not, heart of man ! though years wane

There have been those that fWmi the deepest caves.
And cells of night and fastnesses below
The stormy dashing of the ocean waves,
Down, fiirther down than gold lies bid, have nurs'd
A quenchless hope, and watcliM their time and

On the bright day, like wakcners from the grave.

JIfrs. Hemaws,

Young heirs, left in this town, where sin's so rank.
And prodigals gape to grow fat by them.
Are, like young whelps, thrown in the lions^ deiu
Who play with them awhile, at leni^th devour

WiUcinsU Miseries of enforce*! Marriage.

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Tbn like a fever that doth shake a man
b^ 01 atren^ to weaknesf, I consome myself:
I know this oompanj, their custom wild,
Hated, abhorr*d of good men ; yet, like a child.
By iea80Q*s role instnictod how to know
Evil fhmi good, I to the worser go.

Wt2Hfis*a Mtferiet ^ mtfwt^d Mamage,

What is a prodigal ? faith, like a brush.
That wears himself, to flourish others* clothes ;
And having worn his heart cv*n to the stump.
He *s thrown away like a deformed lump :
O sucn am I ! I have spent all the wealth
My ancestors did purchase ; made others brave
In shape and riches, and m3rsclf a knave :

Online LibraryJohn F. Addington Sarah Josepha Buell HaleA complete dictionary of poetical quotations: comprising the most excellent ... → online text (page 68 of 91)