N.

Unless it is to thee; her lonely hours

Are spent in shaping forth your future lives,
After her own romantic fantasies;

Thou art the star round which her thoughts revolve
Like satellites.

L.

Miss Landon.

He loves thee; and he feels
That on the fountain of his heart a seal

Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright
For thee.

Shelley.

8.

G.-Though father and mother

Forbid her thy sight,

Though sister and brother

Against thee unite,

Though all that surround you

To part you essay,
Through all will she meet you;
Love will find out the way.

L. He'll make a pastime of each weary step
Till the last step has brought him to his love.

9.

Shakspears.

G. In curious paintings she's exceeding nice,
And knows their several beauties by their price;
Auctions and sales she constantly attends,
But has her pictures chosen by her friends.

Bramston.

N.

L.-Rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun,
He'll relish a joke, and rejoice in a pun.

Goldsmith.

10.

G. To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page;
To rear the graces into second life;
To give society its highest taste;

Well-ordered home your best delight to make;
And by submission, wisdom, modest skill,
With every gentle, care-eluding art,
To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,
And sweeten all the toils of human life.

L.-A sculptor, born to elevate his art,

Thomson.

And loving it with fervor, such as burned
In old Pygmalion's spirit when he yearned
For the sweet image that his hands had made.
Mackoy.

11.

G.-Jewels, and hanging silks, and piled up plate
And marble groups in beauty's choicest mould,
And viands rare, and odors delicate,

And art and nature in divinest works
Swell the full pomp of her triumphant state.

Tupper.

L-Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And though no science, fairly worth the seven.

Pope.

N.

12.

G.-Thou know'st she's not so beautiful
As many girls we see;

But ah! her heart, so dutiful,
Is beautiful to thee.

L.-A man so various that he seems to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong,
Is everything by starts, and nothing long;
But in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;
Blest madman, who can every hour employ
In something new to wish, or to enjoy ;
In squandering wealth lies his peculiar art,
Nothing goes unrewarded but desert.

13.

Spectator.

G. When you would give all wordly plagues a name
Worse than they have already, call 'em-Wife!
Why, what a deal of horror

Has that poor wretch to come that married yesterday.

L.-Take thus much of my cousel, marry not

Otway.

In haste, for she that takes the best of husbands
Puts on a golden fetter; for husbands

Are like to painted fruit which promise much
But still deceive us.

Cupid's Whirligig.

N.

14.

G.-The duties of a wedded life

Hath Heaven ordained for thee.

Southey.

L.-Married! no, faith! husbands are like lots
In the lottery; you may draw forty blanks,
Before
you find one that has any prize in him.

Marston.

15.

Of plain sound sense life's current coin is made,
With that we drive the most substantial trade.

16.

Young.

So act through life that at its closing scene
You may survey the past with soul serene.
G.-Brother, shun the mist exhaling

From the fen of pride and doubt;
Neither seek the house of bondage

Walling straightened souls about;
Bats! who from their narrow spy-hole
Cannot see a world without.

Anchor in no stagnant shallow

Trust the wide and wond'rous sea,
Where the tides are fresh forever,
And the mighty current free;

There, perchance, oh, young Columbus,
Your New World of truth may be !

N.

Love all things that God created,

your

Make brother's need your care;
Scorn and hate repel God's blessings,

But where love is, they are there;
As the moonbeams light the waters,
Leaving rock and sand-bank bare.

Thus my brother, grow and flourish,
Fearing none, and loving all;
For the true man needs no patron—
He shall climb and never crawl;
Two things fashion their own channel—
The strong man, and the waterfall.

L.-Oh, thou child of many prayers!

C. G. Duffy.

Life hath quicksands-life hath snares!
Care and age come unawares!

Like the swell of some sweet tune,

Morning rises into noon,

May glides onward into June.

Childhood is the bough where slumbered
Birds and blossoms, many-numbered!
Age, that bough with shows encumbered.

Gather, then, each flower that grows
When the young heart overflows
To embalm that tent of snows.