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Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,

And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine,
To hail his father; while his little form
Flutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain!
The childless cherubs well might envy thee
The pleasures of a parent.

a. BYRON-Cain. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 171.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps ; Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps; She, while the lovely baby unconscious lies, Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.

b.

CAMPBELL-Pleasures of Hope. Pt. I.
L. 225.

When you fold your hands, Baby Louise! Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair, With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air,

Are you trying to think of some angel-taught

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m.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER-The Elder
Brother. Act III. Sc. 5.

Ye gods! but she is wondrous fair!

For me her constant flame appears;
The garland she hath culled, I wear

On brows bald since my thirty years.
Ye veils that deck my loved one rare,
Fall, for the crowning triumph's nigh.
Ye Gods! but she is wondrous fair!
And I, so plain a man am I!
n. BERANGER Qu'elle est jolie.

Translated by C. L. Betts.
The beautiful seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.

0. E. B. BROWNING-Aurora Leigh. Bk. I. The essence of all beauty, I call love, The attribute, the evidence, and end, The consummation to the inward sense Of beauty apprehended from without, I still call love.

p. E. B. BROWNING-Sword Glare.

And behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful. 9. BUNYAN-Pilgrim's Progress. Pt. I.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded. BYRON-Don Juan. Canto 15. St. 43.

r.

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'Twas not the fading charms of face That riveted Love's golden chain;

It was the high celestial grace

Of goodness, that doth never wane-
Whose are the sweets that never pall,
Delicious, pure, and crowning all.
h.

ABRAHAM COLES-The Microcosm and
other Poems. P. 244.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet,
Which once inflam'd my soul, and still in-
spires my wit.

i. DRYDEN-Cymon and Iphigenia. L. 1. She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,

Grows cold, even in the summer of her age. j. DRYDEN-Edipus. Act IV. Sc. 1. When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!

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w.

KEATS-Endymion. Bk. I. L. 1.

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