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Be calm in arguing; for fierceness makes
Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. Why should I feel another man's mistakes,
More than his sicknesses or poverty?
He'd undertake to prove, by force
And rooks committee-men and trustees. Butler.
And Phæbus 'gins arise,
On chaliced flowers that lies;
To ope their golden eyes;
Dryden, from Virgil.
In doing nought thy hour of life away;
O GOD thy arm was here! And not to us but to Thy arm alone Ascribe we all.
* * * * *
Gay. For if our God, the Lord armipotent, Those armed angels in our aid send down, That were at Dathan to his prophet sent, Thou wilt come down with them, and will defend Our host.
In every heart
The first artificer of death; the shrewd
Cowper. And by the law of arms
What law is that? 'Tis not the law of God, nor yet above it.
Henry Taylor. Who is the happy warrior? who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous spirit who hath wrought Among the plans of real life; _ 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on his best of friends; - Who, if he rise to stations of command, Rises by open means; -Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful, with a singleness of aim.
Wordsworth. The army, like a lion from his den,
Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, A human hydra issuing from its fen,
To breathe destruction in its winding way.--Byron.
Pride hath no other glass
Who not content
ART-ARTIST. The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Shakspere. In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed.
Shakspere. Rich with the spoils of many a conquered land, All art and artists Theseus could command, Who sold for hire or wrought for better fame, The master painters and the carvers came.
Dryden. Blest with each grace of nature and of art. * * * * *
* Even copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, The last and greatest art, the art to blot. Pope.
Tir'd at first sight, with what the muse imparts,
Cowley. Ah! the artist's life Is pilgrimage. He may not tarry on One spot of earth; he is drawn for aye towards A jewel, which he aye pursues, and ever Beholds before him, yet can ne'er attain. Herder. Perhaps this cruel nymph well knows to feign Forbidding speech, coy looks, and cold disdain, To raise his passion: such are female arts, To hold in safer snares inconstant hearts.
What thing a right line is, the learned know;
Lord Brooke. Such is the strength of art, rough things to shape, And of rude commons rich enclosures make.
James Howell. For though I must confess an artist can Contrive things better than another man, Yet when the task is done, he finds his pains Sought but to fill his belly with his brains. Is this the guerdon due to liberal arts, T'admire the head and then to starve the parts? Timely prevention though discreetly used Before the fruits of knowledge were abused. When learning has incurr’d a fearful damp, To save our oil, 'tis good to quench the lamp.
Lady Alimony. Immortal art! where'er the rounded sky Bends o’er the cradle where thy children lie, Their home is earth, their herald every tongue.
* * * Art is wondrous long, Yet to the wise her paths are ever fair, And patience smiles though genius may despair.
°0. W. Holmes.
New lustre to those charms impart?
Sir William Jones, from the Persian.