"The truly brave, When they behold the brave oppress’d with odds, Are touch’d with a desire to shield and save;— A mixture of wild beasts and demigods Are they—now furious as the sweeping wave, Now moved with pity: even as sometimes nods The rugged tree unto the summer wind, Compassion breathes along the savage mind."

"’Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor t’other flinch."

"Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose."

"Carnage" (so Wordsworth tells you) "is God's daughter."

"And one enormous shout of "Allah!" rose In the same moment, loud as even the roar Of war's most mortal engines, to their foes Hurling defiance: city, stream, and shore Resounded "Allah!" and the clouds which close With thick'ning canopy the conflict o'er, Vibrate to the Eternal name. Hark! through All sounds it pierceth "Allah! Allah Hu!""

"Not so Leonidas and Washington, Whose every battle-field is holy ground, Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone."

"The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore."

"The army, like a lion from his den, March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, — A human Hydra, issuing from its fen To breathe destruction on its winding way, Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain Immediately in others grew again."

"Here pause we for the present — as even then That awful pause, dividing life from death, Struck for an instant on the hearts of men, Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath! A moment — and all will be life again! The march! the charge! the shouts of either faith! Hurra! and Allah! and — one moment more, The death-cry drowning in the battle's roar."

"For every thing seem'd resting on his nod, As they could read in all eyes. Now to them, Who were accustom'd, as a sort of god, To see the sultan, rich in many a gem, Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad (That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem), With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt How power could condescend to do without."

""Let there be light! said God, and there was light!" "Let there be blood!" says man, and there's a sea!"

"Ecclesiastes said, "that all is vanity" — Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very soon may know it."

"Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only "like a youth Picking up shells by the great ocean — Truth.""

"But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime To laugh at all things — for I wish to know What, after all, are all things — but a show?"

"And her brow clear’d, but not her troubled eye; The wind was down, but still the sea ran high."

"A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase By which such things are settled nowadays."

"A lady of "a certain age," which means Certainly aged."

"Our ultimate existence? what's our present? Are questions answerless, and yet incessant."

"I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen."

"But she was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet, Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth."

"I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:" My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad, And much more tender on the whole than fierce; It being (not now, but only while a lad) That womankind had but one rosy mouth, To kiss them all at once from North to South."

"Polygamy may well be held in dread, Not only as a sin, but as a bore: Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed, Will scarcely find philosophy for more."

"Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius."

"There is a tide in the affairs of women Which, taken at the flood, leads—God knows where."

"Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life Into that moral centaur, man and wife?"

"She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears, For women shed and use them at their liking; But there is something when man's eye appears Wet, still more disagreeable and striking."

"There was no end unto the things she bought, Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused; Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardon'd all except her face."

"For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady’s hands."

"Not to admire is all the art I know."

""Not to admire is all the art I know (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech) To make men happy, or to keep them so" (So take it in the very words of Creech)— Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago; And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation; but had none admired, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?"

"They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew, Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "cousin," As far as outward show may correspond; I won't be bail for anything beyond."

"Her years Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs; But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things."

"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm." "So much the better," Juan said, "for them."

"Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon, So costly were they; carpets, every stitch Of workmanship so rare, they make you wish You could glide o'er them like a golden fish."

"But every fool describes in these bright days His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise— Death to his publisher, to him ’tis sport."

"And gazed around them to the left and right With the prophetic eye of appetite."

"Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared."

"No Method's more sure at moments to take hold Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow More tender, as we every day behold, Than that all-softening, overpowering knell, The tocsin of the soul — the dinner-bell."

"And put himself upon his good behaviour."

"And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals’ eyes find favour."

"And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed? Can every element our elements mar? And air—earth—water—fire live—and we dead? We, whose minds comprehend all things?"

"’Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext’rous; some by features Are bought up, others by a warlike leader, Some by a place—as tend their years or natures; The most by ready cash—but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices."

"And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake."

"A lady in the case."

"Men are the sport of circumstances, when The circumstances seem the sport of men."

"There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine."

"I have a passion for the name of "Mary", For once it was a magic sound to me; And still it half calls up the realms of fairy, Where I beheld what never was to be."