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Life's little stage is a small eminence,
Inch-high the grave above; that home of man,
Where dwells the multitude: we gaze around;
We read their monuments; we sigh; and while
We sigh, we sink; and are what we deplor'd;
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot!

Young, N. T. 11. 361.

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What tho' we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ?
Earth's highest station ends in "Here he lies :"
And "dust to dust' concludes her noblest song.
While man is growing, life is in decrease;
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.

16. IV. 97.

Our birth is nothing but our death begun;
As tapers waste that instant they take fire. Young, N.T.v.717.

Vain man! to be so fond of breathing long,
And spinning out a thread of misery.
The longer life, the greater choice of evil.
He sins against this life, who slights the next.
There's not a day, but, to the man of thought,
Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach
On life, and makes him sick of seeing more.

Young, N. T.

Young, N. T.

1b. N. T.

That life is long which answers life's great end.

Ib. v. 773.

Young.

Life is a trifle we must shortly pay,

And where's the mighty lucre of a day?

The days of life are sisters, all alike;

None just the same, which serve to fool us on
Through blasted hope, with change of fallacy,

While jou

joy is like to-morrow, still to come,

Nor ends the fruitless chase but in the grave. Young, Broth. 1.

Along the cool sequester'd vale of life,

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Gray, Elegy 20.

To each his sufferings: all are men

Condemn'd alike to groan;

The tender for another's pain,

The unfeeling for his own.

Gray, Eton College.

By day or night,

In florid youth, or mellow age, scarce fleets
One hour without its care! Not sleep itself
Is ever balmy; for the shadowy dream

Oft bears substantial woe.

Smollet, Regicide.

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Reflect that life, like every other blessing,

Derives its value from its use alone;

Not for itself, but for a nobler end,

Th' eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. Ib. Irene, III. 8.

Year chases year, decay pursues decay,

Still drops some joy from wi

withering life away

;

New forms arise, and different views engage,

Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage,

Till pitying nature signs the last release,

And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. Ib. Van. H. IV. 305.

In life's last scene what prodigies surprise,

Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!

From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
And Swift expires a driveller and a show. Ib. V. H. W. 315.

Enlarge my life with multitude of days

In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays:
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know

That life protracted is protracted woe. Ib. Van. H. W. 255.

The tree of deepest root is found

Least willing still to quit the ground:
'Twas therefore said, by ancient sages,
That love of life increased with years
So much, that in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,

The greatest love of life appears.

Mrs. Piozzi, The Three Warnings.

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LIFE-continued.

Men deal with life as children with their play,
Who first misuse, then cast their toys away Cowper, Hope.

In such a world, so thorny, and where none
Finds happiness unblighted, or if found,
Without some thistly sorrow at its side,
It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With less distinguish'd than ourselves, that thus
We may with patience bear our mod'rate ills,

And sympathize with others, suffering

more. Ib. Task, IV. 333.

How readily we wish time spent revoked,
That we might try the ground again, where once
(Through inexperience as we now perceive)

We miss'd that happiness we might have found. Ib. vI. 25.

Well, well-the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love, and pay our taxes
And, as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs us, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,

Fighting, devotion, dust-perhaps a name. Byron, D. J. 1. 4.

'Tis very certain the desire of life

Prolongs it, this is obvious to physicians,
When patients, neither plagued with friends nor wife,
Survive through very desperate conditions..
Because they still can hope, nor shines the knife
Nor shears of Atropos before their visions:
Despair of all recovery spoils longevity.
And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity.

16. 11. 64.

There still are many Rainbows in your sky,
But mine have vanish'd. All, when life is new,
Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high;
But time strips our illusions of their hue,
And one by one, in turn, some grand mistake,
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake. Byron, D.J.v.21.

Between two worlds, life hovers like a star
'Twixt night and morn, upon th' horizon's verge.
How little do we know that which we are!
How less what we may be! The eternal surge
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar
Our bubbles: as the old burst, new emerge,
Lash'd from the foam of ages.

Byron, D. J. XV. 99.

LIFE.

828

LIFE-continued.

My days, though few, have pass'd below
In much of joy, though more of woe;

Yet still, in hours of love or strife,

I've 'scaped the weariness of life.

How short is human life! the very breath

Byron.

Which frames my words, accelerates my death. Han. More.

What is life ?

A gulf of troubled waters-where the soul,

Like a vex'd bark, is toss'd upon the waves
Of pain and pleasure by the wavering breath
Of passions.

What makes the happiest life below,
A few plain rules, my friend, will show.
A good estate, not earn'd with toil,
But left by will, or giv'n by fate;
A land of no ungrateful soil,

A constant fire within your grate :
No law; few cares; a quiet mind;
Strength unimpair'd, a healthful frame;
Wisdom with innocence combin'd;

L. E. Landon.

Friends equal both in years and fame. Martialx.47, (Merivale.)

All that's bright must fade,

The brightest still the fleetest;

All that's sweet was made

But to be lost when sweetest.

Moore, National Airs.

Oh! life is a waste of wearisome hours,

Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns;

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,

Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

Moore, O think not my Spirit.'

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For the soul is dead that slumbers,

Life is real, life is earnest;

And things are not what they seem. Longfellow, Psalm of Life.

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest;

Was not spoken of the soul.

Longfellow.

324

LIFE-continued.

LIFE-LIGHT.

What different lots our stars accord!

This babe to be hail'd and woo'd as a lord!

And that to be shunn'd like a leper!

One, to the world's wine, honey, and corn,

Another, like Colchester-native, born

To its vinegar only and pepper.

Hood, Miss Kilmansegg.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Baily, Fest.

If life be heavy on your hands,

Are there no beggars at your gate,

Nor any poor about your lands?
Oh, teach the orphan boy to read,
Or teach the orphan girl to sew;
Pray heaven for a human heart,

And let your selfish sorrow go.

Tennyson.

Life-what is life? but the immediate breath we draw:

Nor have we surety for a second gale.

A frail and fickle tenement it is;

Which, like the brittle glass that measures time,

Is broke e'er half its sands are run.

LIGHT.

Notes and Queries, Dec. 19th, 1863.

Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven first-born!

Or of th' Eternal coeternal beam,

May I express thee, unblam'd? since God is light,

And never but in unapproached light

Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,

Bright effluence of bright essence incrcate. Milton, P.L.1.1.

Let there be light! God said, and forthwith light

Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,

Sprung from the deep; and, from her native east,

To journey through the airy gloom began,

Spher'd in a radiant cloud.

Milton, P. L. VII. 214.

Before the sun,

Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice

Of God as with a mantle didst invest

The rising world of waters deep and dark,

Won from the void of formless infinite. Milton, P. L. III. 8.

Our souls have holy light within,

And every form of grief and sin

Shall see and feel its fire.

Ebenezer Elliott.

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