SCEPTRE and power, thy giving, I assume,
And gladlier shall resign, when in the end
Thou shalt be all-in-all, and I in thee
For ever; and in one all whom thou lov'st. --Milton.
The same First Mover certain bounds has placed
How long the perishable forms shall last;
Nor can they last beyond the time assigned
By that all-seeing and all-making mind.
The youth shall study, and no more engage
Their flattering wishes for uncertain age;
No more with fruitless care and cheated strife
Chace fleeting pleasure through the maze of life;
Finding the wretched all they here can have,
But present food, and but a future grave.
I'LL give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage;
My gay apparel for an almsman's gown.
In alms regard thy means, and others' merit;
Think heaven a better bargain, than to give
Only thy single market-money for it.
Join hands with God to make a man to live.
Give to all something, to a good poor man,
Till thou change names and be where he began.
Man is God's image; but a poor man is
Christ's stamp to boot: both images regard:
God reckons for him, counts the favour his;
Write so much giv'n to God. Thou shalt be heard;
Let thy alms go before, and keep heaven's gate
Open for thee; or both may come too late.
Behold yon almshouse neat, but void of state,
Where want and age sit smiling at the gate. Pope.
Give while thou canst, it is a god-like thing,
Give what thou canst, thou shalt not find it loss; Yea, sell and give, much gain such barteries bring, Yea, all thou hast, and get fine gold for dross: Still, see thou scatter wisely; for to fling
Good seed on rocks, or sands, or thorny ground, Were not to copy Him, whose generous cross
Hath this poor world with rich salvation crowned,
And when thou look'st on woes and want around,
Knowing that God hath lent thee all thy wealth,
That better 'tis to give, than to receive,
That riches cannot buy thee joy nor health;
Why hinder thine own welfare? thousands grieve
When, if thy pitying hand will but relieve,
It shall for thine own wear, the robe of gladness weave.
M. F. Tupper.
By all means use sometimes to be alone;
Salute thyself, see what thy soul doth wear;
Dare look into thy chest, for 'tis thy own,
And tumble up and down what thou find'st there.
Who cannot rest till he good fellows find,
May break up house, turn out of doors his mind.
What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deepest on the brow? To view each loved one blighted from life's page, And be alone on earth-as I am now.
Alone she sat alone! that worn-out word,
So idly spoken and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief hath known,
Of hope laid waste, knells in that word-alone!
When musing on companions gone,
We doubly deem ourselves alone.
Scott.
ALTERNATION. ALTITUDE.
So he, with difficulty and labour hard,
But he once past, (soon after, when man fell, Strange alternation!) Sin and death unseen Following his track, (such was the will of heaven!)
Paved after him a broad and beaten way.
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To man; the greater to have rule by day,
The less by night, altern.
Good after ill, and after pain delight,
Alternate like the scenes of day and night.
Hear how Timotheus' various lays surprise,
And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
While at each change the son of Lybian Jove
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love.
Unhappy man! whom sorrow thus and rage,
To different ills alternately engage.
And swift and swift, with rapid lightness,
The adorned earth spins silently,
Alternating Elysian brightness
With deep and dreadful night; the sea
Foams in broad billows from the deep
Up to the rocks; and rocks and ocean
Onward, with spheres that never sleep,
Are hurried in eternal motion.
SHE shines above, we know, but in what place,
How near the throne and heaven's imperial grace,
By our weak optics is but vainly guessed;
Distance and altitude conceal the rest.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the power to rise;
The world, a willing stander-by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie.
He answered nought at all; but adding new
Fear to his first amazement, staring wide,
With stony eyes and heartless hollow hue,
Astonished stood, as one that had espied
Infernal furies with their chains untied.
But look! amazement on thy mother sits;
O, step between her and her fighting soul!
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. --Shakspere.
He ended, and his words impression left
Of much amazement on the infernal crew,
Distracted and surprised with deep dismay
At these sad tidings.
Go heavenly pair! and with your dazzling virtues,
Your courage, truth, your innocence, and love,
Amaze and charm mankind.
Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life,
Speechless and fix'd in all the death of woe.
CROMWELL, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other side.
Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way; thou would'st be great;
Art not without ambition; but without
The illness should attend it; what thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win.
Let who will climb ambition's glibbery rounds,
And lean upon the vulgar's rotten love,
I'll not corrival him. The sun will give
As great a shadow to my trunk as his;
And after death, like chessmen, having stood
In play for bishops some, for knights, and pawns,
We all together shall be tumbled up
Ambition is an idol, on whose wings
Great minds are carried only to extremes;
To be sublimely great, or to be nothing.
Ambition is at a distance
A goodly prospect, tempting to the view;
The height delights us, and the mountain top
Looks beautiful because 'tis nigh to heaven:
But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation,
What storms will batter and what tempests shake.
What is ambition but desire of greatness?
And what is greatness but extent of power?
But lust of power's a dropsy of the mind,
Whose thirst increases while we drink to quench it,
Till swollen and stretched by the repeated draught,
We burst and perish.
From which all growth of nobleness proceeds.
The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline,
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine:
The same ambition can destroy or save,
And make a patriot, as it makes a knave.
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