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1.-How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

2. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

1.-So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Until a king be by; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main waters.

Shakspere.

Whose form is like the cypress tree's,
Whose musky tresses scent the breeze;
Whose chin its silver orb displays,
While necklace gems beneath it blaze;
That orb, those gems, her neck entwining,
The proud sun's shining orb out-shining.

From the Persian.

The rose that blooms and lives but in the sun,
Asks not what other flowers he shines upon,
If he but shine on her.
Anne C. Lynch.

SHIP.

You might have seen the frothy billows fry
Under the ship, as thorough them she went,
That seem'd the waves were unto ivory,
Or ivory unto the waves were sent.

Behold a stately ship,

Spenser.

Proud of her gaudy trim, comes this way sailing
With all her bravery on and tackle trim;

Sails filled, and streamers waving,

Courted by all the winds that hold their play.

She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Milton.

Byron.

576

SHOES. SHOULD. SHOUTING.

SHOES.

SPARE none but those who go in clouted shoes,
For they are thrifty honest men.
Shakspere.

Let firm, well-hammer'd soles protect thy feet,
Through freezing snows, and rain, and soaking sleet;—
Should the big last extend the sole too wide,
Each stone will wrench th' unwary step aside;
The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein,
Thy cracking joints unhinge, or ankle sprain;
And when too small the modest shoes are worn,
You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.

Gay.

SHOULD-WOULD.

THERE lies within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,

Dies in his own too much; that we would do,
We should do when we would; for this would changes,
And hath abatements and delays as many

As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents.
And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing.

Shakspere.

SHOUTING.

THANKS, gentle citizens,

This general applause and cheerful shout
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard.

Shakspere. Then give a general shout, and send scared echo E'en to the frighted ears of tyranny.

Sir A. Hunt.

Then, bursting broad, the boundless shout to heaven, From many a thousand hearts ecstatic sprung.

Thomson.

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METHINKS I wish that I had never known
Virtue like yours so high, that mine is none:
You as some vast hill, touching heaven, appear;
I at your feet, like a poor valley near:
Down from your cloudy top refreshing flow
Fast bounteous rills, that water me below;
Valleys but vapours can to heaven return,
And I with sighs your falling favours mourn.

Nat. Lee. 1. Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing Thy happiness!-what ails thee, cousin of mine? Why didst thou sigh so deeply?

2. Did I sigh?

I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,

A silly--a most silly fashion I have

When I am very happy. Did I sigh?-E. A. Poe.

If youth is but a joyous time,

A world of flowers, a summer sky;
What, ere man is in his prime,
Is its remembrance, but a sigh?

F. F. Dally.

SIGHT.

NINE things to sight required are;

The power to see, the light, the visible thing, Being not too small, too thin, too nigh, too far, Clear space, and time, the form distinct to bring.

What form of death could him affright,
Who, unconcerned, with stedfast sight,
Could view the surges mounting steep,
And monsters rolling in the deep?

Davies.

Dryden, from Horace.

My eyes are somewhat dimmish grown,
For nature always in the right,
To your decays adapts my sight.

Swift.

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SILENCE is only commendable

In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.

Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, tho' ne'er so witty;
A beggar that is dumb you know,

Shakspere.

May challenge double pity!-Sir W. Raleigh.

Silence! coeval with eternity!

Thou wert ere nature's self began to be;

Thine was the sway ere heaven was form'd on earth;

I have a silent sorrow here,

Ere fruitful thought conceiv'd creation's birth.

Pope.

It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear,
Yet it consumes my heart.

Sheridan.

A grief I'll ne'er impart;

-And the poor wretch mov'd me

More by his silence, than a thousand outcries
Could have effected.

Perhaps she lingers in some old room,

Byron.

Where wind never ruffles the ancient plume-
Where for many a year the moth and rust
Have reign'd supreme 'midst the gloomy dust-
The armour never reflecting a light

From the moonbeams pale, or the sunbeams bright;
Yea! the dusty armour and plume declare
That the Spirit of Silence dwelleth there.

F. G. Lee.

There is a silence which hath been no sound;
There is a silence which no sound may be-
In the cold grave.

Thomas Hood.

She feels her inmost soul within her stir
With thoughts too wild and passionate to speak;
Yet her full heart-its own interpreter-
Translates itself in silence on her cheek.

Mrs. Amelia B. Welby.

SIMONY.

SIMILE. SIMPLICITY.

579

SIMONY.

SUCH reverence in that age was right, 't is true, An age when faithful shepherds rul'd the flock; And if in these degen'rate days, the due

Is rarely paid, the fault is theirs who shock, By conduct foul; and, 'mid a servile crew

Of flatt'rers vain, for aggrandizement, look To simony, and schemes which now compel Those popes of ours e'en cures of souls to sell.

Ariosto.

SIMILE-SIMILITUDE.

THEIR rhymes

Full of protest, and oath, and big sound,
Want similes.

Let us make man in our image, man
In our similitude.

Fate some future bard shall join

In sad similitude of grief to mine;

Shakspere.

Milton.

Condemned whole years in absence to deplore
The image charms he shall behold no more.-Pope.

SIMPLICITY.

GIVE me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace.
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free!
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all the adulteries of art;

That strike mine eyes but not my heart.

I would walk

A weary journey, to the farthest verge

Ben Jonson.

Of the big world, to kiss that good man's hand,
Who in the blaze of wisdom and of art,
Preserves a lowly mind; and to his God,
Feeling the sense of his own littleness,
Is as a child in meek simplicity.

H. K. White.

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