Capacious, then, as earth or heaven could hold,
Soul discontented with capacity,--
Is gone (I fear) forever.
263
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR: _Gebir,_ Bk. ii.

=Captain.=

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
264
WALT WHITMAN: _O Captain! My Captain_! (On Death of Lincoln.)

A rude and boisterous captain of the sea.
265
JOHN HOME: _Douglas,_ Act iv., Sc. 1.

=Care.=

Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
266
SHAKS.: _Rom. and Jul.,_ Act ii., Sc. 1.

Care that is enter'd once into the breast,
Will have the whole possession, ere it rest.
267
BEN JONSON: _Tale of a Tub,_ Act i., Sc. 3.

Care, whom not the gayest can outbrave,
Pursues its feeble victim to the grave.
268
HENRY KIRKE WHITE: _Childhood,_ Pt. ii., Line 17.

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt;
And every grin, so merry, draws one out.
269
PETER PINDAR: _Ex. Odes,_ Ode 15.

Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.
270
GEORGE WITHER: _Poem on Christmas._

=Carefulness.=

For my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
271
SHAKS.: _Hamlet,_ Act iv., Sc. 5.

=Cat.=

A harmless necessary cat.
272
SHAKS.: _M. of Venice,_ Act iv., Sc. 1.

Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew and dog will have his day.
273
SHAKS.: _Hamlet,_ Act v., Sc. 1.

=Cataract.=

The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion.
274
WORDSWORTH: _Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey._

=Cathedrals.=

The high embower'd roof,
With antique pillars, massy proof,
And storied windows, richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
275
MILTON: _Il Penseroso,_ Line 157.

=Cato.=

Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause.
276
POPE: _Prologue to the Satires,_ Line 207.

=Cattle.=

O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee.
277
CHARLES KINGSLEY: _The Sands of Dee._

=Cause.=

And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself.