« ZurückWeiter »
CHASTE as the icicle,
Mine honour's such a ring:.
Sir W. Davenant. On thy fair brow shines such a legend writ Of chastity, as blinds the adultrous eye: Not the mountain ice Congealed to crystals, is so frosty chaste As thy victorious soul, which conquers man, And man's proud tyrant-passion.
Dryden. So dear to heaven is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liv'ried angels lacquey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.
She that has that is clad in complete steel,
Of all flowers Methinks a rose the best.
Why, gentle maiden? It is the very emblem of a maid; For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun [her, With her chåste blush! When the north comes near Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leaves him to bare briars.
That modest grace subdued my soul,
such like libertines of sin. Shakspere. Empyrick politicians use deceit, Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat.
In little trades more cheats and lying
For the dull world most honour pay to those,
Or corall lips admires,
Fuell to maintaine his fires :
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Kindle never-dying fires;
Daughter of the rose, whose cheeks unite
Goltho by nature was of music made:
Cheerful as victors warm in their success He seemed, like birds, created to be glad; And nought but love could make him taste distress.
Sir W. Davenant. May the man That cheerfully recounts the female's praise, Find equal love, and love's untainted sweets Enjoy with honour.
Phillips. When cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulders flung, Her buskins gemm’d with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung.
Collins. Behold the turtle who has lost her mate; Awhile with drooping wings she mourns his fate; But time the rueful image wears away; Again she's cheer'd, again she seeks the day.-Gay. I think we are too ready with complaint In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope, Indeed, beyond the zenith and the slope Of yon gray blank of sky, we might be faint To muse upon eternity's constraint Round our aspirant souls. But since the scope Must widen early, is it well to droop For a few days consumed in loss and taint? O pusillanimous heart, be comfortedAnd like a cheerful traveller, take the roadSinging beside the hedge. What if the bread Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod To meet the flints? At least it may be said, "Because the way is short, I thank thee, God!"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Shakspere. Those that do teach your babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks; He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding.
You look as if yon stern philosopher
CHILD_CHILDHOOD. THE hour arrives, the moment wished and feared; The child is born, by many a pang endeared, And now the mother's ear has caught his cry; Oh, grant the cherub to her asking eye! He comes—she clasps him. To her bosom pressed He drinks the balm of and drops to rest.
Rogers. When heaven and angels, earth and earthly things Do leave the guilty in their guiltinessA cherub's voice doth whisper in a child's, There is a shrine within thy little heart Where I will hide, nor hear the trump of doom.
Maturin. Children are blest, and powerful; their world lies More justly balanced; partly at their feet, And part far from them.