hter, as sweet
As the swallow's song i' the South,
And a ripple of dimples that, dancing, meet
By the curves of a perfect mouth.
_Ariel_. P.H. HAYNE.

Fight Virtue's cause, stand up in Wit's defence,
Win us from vice and laugh us into sense.
_On the Prospect of Peace_. T. TICKELL.

Let me play the fool;
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish?
_Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

MIND.

We had not walked
But for Tradition; we walk evermore
To higher paths by brightening Reason's lamp.
_Spanish Gypsy, Bk. II_. GEORGE ELIOT.

He that of such a height hath built his mind,
And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,
As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame
Of his resolved powers; nor all the wind
Of vanity or malice pierce to wrong
His settled peace, or to disturb the same;
What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may
The boundless wastes and wilds of man survey?

* * * * *

Unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!
_To the Countess of Cumberland_. S. DANIEL.

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. I_. MILTON.

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason,
To fust in us unused.
_Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,
Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice.
_The Vanity of Human Wishes_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find.
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.
_Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
_Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts!
_Paracelsus_. R. BROWNING.

Were I so tall to reach