"The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more."

"Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid."

"Oh, call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold."

"Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-- It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife." "Why, so it is father--whose wife shall I take?"

"But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last."

"All that's bright must fade,— The brightest and the fleetest; All that's sweet was made, But to be lost when sweetest."

"Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphed—his people are free."

"Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!"

"But the trail of the serpent is over them all."

"What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine."

"But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream."

"A Persian's heaven is easily made: 'Tis but black eyes and lemonade."

"Oft, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken!"

"I feel like one, Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed!"

"Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour, I 've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 't was the first to fade away. I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well And love me, it was sure to die."

"Another's sword has laid him low, Another's and another's; And every hand that dealt the blow— Ah me! it was a brother's!"

"The hunter and the deer a shade."

"Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die."

"Oh leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!"

"Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore!"

"Oh! once the harp of Innisfail Was strung full high to notes of gladness; But yet it often told a tale Of more prevailing sadness."

"In life's morning march, when my bosom was young."

"Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre."

"The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!"

"There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath, For a time."

"Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day! For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal: 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before."

"To is to conquer our fate."

"Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field and his feet to the foe, And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame."

"Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save."

"But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away."

"On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I; No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray."

"To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die."

"Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An Angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow men." The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!"

"Fishes do not roar; they cannot express any sound of suffering; and therefore the angler chooses to think they do not suffer, more than it is convenient for him to fancy. Now it is a poor sport that depends for its existence on the want of a voice in the sufferer, and of imagination in the sportsman."

"There are two worlds: the world that we can measure with line and rule, and the world we feel with our hearts and imagination."

"That there is pain and evil, is no rule That I should make it greater, like a fool."

"If you are ever at a loss to support a flagging conversation, introduce the subject of eating."

"The same people who can deny others everything are famous for refusing themselves nothing."

"Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen, be your apples."

"It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands."

"and then we wake, And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake."

"Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in. Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me; Say I'm growing old, but add Jenny kissed me."

"Oh for a seat in some poetic nook, Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!"

"The two divinest things this world has got, A lovely woman in a rural spot!"

"With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks."

"She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild: The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place, Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. "By God!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat: "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that.""

"I almost think it is the ultimate destiny of science to exterminate the human race."

"Respectable means rich, and decent means poor. I should die if I heard my family called decent."

"My quarrel with him is, that his works contain nothing worth quoting; and a book that furnishes no quotations, is, me judice [in my opinion], no book - it is a plaything."

"I never failed to convince an audience that the best thing they could do was to go away."