« ForrigeFortsæt »
DOMESTIC AFFAIRS - HOME.
If earth's whole orb, by some due distanc'd eye,
YOUNG'S Night Thoughts
Home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace, and plenty, where,
Domestic happiness! thou only bliss
His warm but simple home, where he enjoys,
Around, in sympathetic mirth,
Its tricks the kitten tries,
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
DOMESTIC AFFAIRS - HOME,
With secret course which no loud storms annoy,
Thou spot of earth, where from my
GOLLSMITH'S Traveller bosom
WALKER-From the Danish. 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcoine as we draw near home; Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come. BYRON'S Don Juan.
He enter'd in his house-his home no more,
Without a welcome.
The parted bosom clings to wonted home,
BYRON'S Don Juan.
BYRON'S Childe Harold.
I've wander'd on thro' many a clime where flowers of beauty grew,
Where all was blissful to the heart and lovely to the viewI've seen them in their twilight pride, and in their dress of
But none appear'd so sweet to me as the spot where I was born.
'Mid pleasures and palaces tho' we may roam,
J. H. PAYNE.
DOUBT - DRAMA - DREAMS - SLEEP.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
A neat little cottage in front of a grove,
And oh, the atmosphere of home! how bright
Who, that in distant lands has chanc'd to roam,
DOUBT. (See CREDULITY.)
DRAMA. (See ACTORS.)
J. T. WATSON.
If I may trust the flatt'ring eye of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news to-morrow.
Dreams are but children of an idle brain,
Thus have I had thee, as a dream will flatter,
Come sleep, O sleep! the certain knot of peace,
Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes;
Tir'd nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
When tir'd with vain rotations of the day,
The only boon the wretched mind can feel;
Sleep is no servant of the will;
Oh! thou best comforter of the sad heart,
When fortune's spite assails-come, gentle sleep, The weary mourner soothe! For well the art Thou know'st in soft forgetfulness to steep The eyes which sorrow taught to watch and weep. MRS. TIGHE'S Psyche.
To each and all, a fair good-night,
BOWRING-From the Spanish
Well may dreams present us fictions,
Tho' 't is all but a dream at the best,
Is so sweet that I ask for no more.
Again in that accustom'd couch must creep,
My slumbers if I slumber are not sleep,
I would recall a vision which I dream'd,
And dreams in their development have breath,