TRUST IN GOD. HEAVEN from all creatures hides the book of Fate, The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heaven, Hope, humbly, then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never is, but always to be blest : The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come. POPE. THE UNCERTAINTY OF POPULARITY. "O LENNOX, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fool? SCOTT. THE POWER OF MUSIC. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Sit, Jessica look, how the floor of heaven But in his motion like an angel sings, Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubims: But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay We are never merry when we hear sweet music. The reason is, our spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, If they but hear perchance a trumpet-sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet TRUE BEAUTY. 195 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; Let no such man be trusted. SHAKSPEARE. TRUE BEAUTY. MEN call you fair, and you do credit it, And virtuous mind, is much more praised of me. For all the rest, however fair it be, Shall turn to naught, and lose that glorious hue; From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensue. To be divine, and born of heavenly seed; Derived from that fair spirit from whom all true And perfect beauty did at first proceed. He only fair, and what he fair hath made; SPENSER. ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE. I. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, II. O for a draught of vintage, that hath been Dance and Provençal song, and sun-burnt mirth ! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, |