O vain to seek delight in earthly thing! SHENSTONE. Drawn into arms, and proof of mortal fight, Of all the passions which possess the soul, WALLER. Alas! ambition makes my little less, ANCESTRY. Heralds stickle, who got who- BUTLER: Hudibras. Were virtue by descent, a noble name Vain are their hopes who fancy to inherit, may trace Old captains and dictators of their race. DRYDEN. Long galleries of ancestors Challenge nor wonder or esteem from me: "Virtue alone is true nobility." DRYDEN. Do then as your progenitors have done, DRYDEN. Thus, born alike, from virtue first began Through proud ambition and heart-swelling He claim'd no title from descent of blood; hate. SPENSER. But that which made him noble, made him good. While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, 37 How fading are the joys we dote upon! But those which soonest take their flight Are the most exquisite and strong; Like angels' visits, short and bright, Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. | Mortality's too weak to bear them long. Angels, by imperial summons call'd, MILTON. Forthwith from all the ends of heav'n appear'd, Under their hierarchs in orders bright. MILTON. JOHN NORRIS: The Parting. Thy beauty appears, In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropp'd from the sky. PARNELL. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great: It engenders choler; planteth anger; Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath, SPENSER: Faerie Queene. 39 DRAYTON. Nymphs of Mulla, which, with careful heed, With silken worms. He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, DRYDEN. Casting nets were spread in shallow brooks, Nor drain I ponds the golden carp to take, GAY. In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade, SPENSER. Should you lure From his dark haunt beneath the tangled roots THOMSON. The ladies angling in the crystal lake, Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling place; With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, Where I may see my quill or cork down sink And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed. POPE: Windsor Forest. With eager bite of pearch, or bleak, or dace. IZAAK WALTON. |