Constancy, Fidelity.

O heaven! were man

But constant, he were perfect; that one error
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all
th' sins.

Shakespeare: Two Gentlemen of Verona.

I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.

Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.

Tell him I love him yet,

As in that joyous time;

Tell him I ne'er forget,

Though memory now be crime.

Praed: Tell Him I Love Him Yet.

Go, bid the needle its dear North forsake,
To which with trembling reverence it doth bend;
Go, bid the stones a journey upwards make;

Go, bid th' ambitious flames no more ascend;
And when these false to their old motions prove,
Then will I cease thee, thee alone to love.

Cowley.

Where'er thou journeyest, or whate'er thy care,

My heart shall follow, and my spirit share.
Lydia H. Sigourney.

Oh, the heart, that has truly loved, never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.
Moore: Believe Me.

Contentment.

My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen: my crown is called content;
A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

Shakespeare: 3 Henry VI.

Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.

Herrick.

Goldsmith: Edwin and Angelina.

This is the charm, by sages often told,

Converting all it touches into gold:

Content can soothe, where'er by fortune placed,

Can rear a garden in the desert waste.

Henry Kirke White: Clifton Grove.

The remnant of his days he safely past,

Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too fast;
He made his wish with his estate comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

Country, Country Life, Rural Life.

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Prior.

Pope: Solitude.

A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
When ev'ry rood of ground maintain'd its man;
For him light labor spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and health,
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

Of men

Goldsmith: Deserted Village.

The happiest he, who far from public rage,
Deep in the vale, with a choice few retired,
Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life.

Thomson: Seasons. Autumn.

God made the country, and man made the town;
What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts,
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught
That life holds out to all, should most abound,
And least be threatened in the fields and groves?
Cowper: Task.

How various his employments, whom the world
Calls idle, and who justly in return
Esteems that busy world an idler too!
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoyed at home,
And Nature in her cultivated trim,
Dressed to his taste, inviting him abroad.

Cowper: Task.

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore

The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds,
That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood
Of ancient growth, make music not unlike

The dash of Ocean on his winding shore,
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind.

Cowper: Task.

Courage, Fortitude, Valor, Daring; see Action.
Screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.

Shakespeare: Macbeth.

For courage mounteth with occasion.

Shakespeare: King John.

True fortitude is seen in great exploits

That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;
All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction.

Addison: Cato.

What though the field be lost!
All is not lost; the ungovernable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield;
And what is else not to be overcome.

Milton: Paradise Lost.

No thought of flight,

None of retreat, no unbecoming deed

That argued fear; each on himself relied,
As only in his arm the moment lay

Of victory.

Milton: Paradise Lost.

Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.

Scott: Lady of the Lake.

-His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.

Byron: Giaour.

And tho' I hope not hence unscath'd to go,
Who conquers me, shall find a stubborn foe.

Byron: English Bards.

One who never turn'd his back but march'd breast forward,

Never doubted clouds would break,

Never dream'd, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,

Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,

Sleep to wake.

Browning: Epilogue to Asolando.

Then, welcome each rebuff

That turns earth's smoothness rough,

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!

Be our joys three-parts pain!

Strive, and hold cheap the strain;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the

throe!

Browning: Rabbi Ben Ezra.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me.

Walt Whitman.

It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long.
Faint not, fight on! To-morrow comes the song!
Be strong!

Maltbie D. Babcock.