"They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild, and do not remember That sometime they have put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change."

"I cannot * * * say that Pan Passeth Apollo in music manyfold; Praisé Sir Thopas for a noble tale, And scorn the story that the Knighté told."

"Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant; My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet!"

"And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! for shame! To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame. And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!"

"Behold love, thy power how she despiseth: My great pain, how little she regardeth The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure Broken she hath: and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease, and little she dreadeth."

"It was the calm and silent night! Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was queen of land and sea. No sound was heard of clashing wars, Peace brooded o’er the hushed domain; Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars Held undisturbed their ancient reign In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago."

"My lute, awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done."

"What should I say? Since Faith is dead, And Truth away From you is fled?"

"Can ye say nay, But that you said That I alway Should be obeyed? And thus betrayed, Or that I wist! Farewell, unkist!"

"Your bounty is beyond my speaking; But though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank you."

"Thou hast prevaricated with thy friend, By underhand contrivances undone me: And while my open nature trusted in thee, Thou hast slept in between me and my hopes, And ravish'd from me all my soul held dear. Thou hast betray'd me."

"As if Misfortune made the throne her seat, And none could be unhappy but the great."

"And one false step entirely damns her fame. In vain with tears the loss she may deplore, In vain look back on what she was before; She sets like stars that fall, to rise no more."

"At length the morn and cold indifference came."

"Is she not more than painting can express, Or youthful poets fancy when they love?"

"Is this that haughty gallant, gay Lothario?"

"[Rowe's] version of Lucan is one of the greatest productions of English poetry; for there is, perhaps, none that so completely exhibits the genius and spirit of the original. Lucan is distinguished by a kind of dictatorial or philosophick dignity, rather, as Quintilian observes, declamatory than poetical; full of ambitious morality and pointed sentences, comprised in vigorous and animated lines. This character Rowe has very diligently and successfully preserved. ... The Pharsalia of Rowe deserves more notice than it obtains, and, as it is more read, will be more esteemed."

"Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love."

"Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, And eagerly pursues imaginary joys."

"O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight pale Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day, With bright Astraea seated by his side, Waits yet to leave the ocean."

"Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to thy Cross I cling; Naked, come to Thee for Dress, Helpless, look to Thee for grace; Vile, I to the fountain fly, Wash me, Saviour, or I die!"

"We cannot all be great poets; but the humblest, if they be sincere, may give a genuine pleasure."

"You hail from Dream-land, Dragon-fly? A stranger hither? So am I, And (sooth to say) I wonder why We either of us came!"

"In the present stages of spiritual experience, the believer's interior comfort, and his exterior lustre, greatly depend on the position of his heart toward the uncreated sun of righteousness. How obscure and benighted are our views, and how languid our exercise of grace, when an unbelieving, a worldly, or a careless spirit, interrupts our walk with God! But, if the out-goings of our souls are to him, and if the in-pourings of his blessed influence be felt, we glow, we kindle, we burn, we shine.<!-- This may be called (to borrow an astronomical phrase) our superior conjunction with the sun : and, at those distinguished seasons of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost,"

"Christ whose glory fills the skies, Christ, the true, the only light, Sun of Righteousness, arise, Triumph o'er the shades of night; Day-spring from on high, be near, Day-star in my heart appear."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee. Let the Water and the Blood, From thy riven Side which flow'd, Be of Sin the double Cure, Cleanse me from its Guilt and Pow'r."

"A strong nor'-wester's blowing, Bill! Hark! don't ye hear it roar now? Lord help 'em, how I pities them Unhappy folks on shore now!"

"My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots About their heads are flying!"

"Not the labors of my hands Can fulfill thy Law's demands: Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever flow, All for Sin could not atone: Thou must save, and Thou alone!"

"Rustic herald of the spring."

"Adieu, for him, The dull engagements of the bustling world! Adieu the sick impertinence of praise! And hope, and action! for with her alone, By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, Is all he asks, and all that fate can give!"

"Such and so various are the tastes of men!"

"Ask the faithful youth Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved So often fills his arms; so often draws His lonely footsteps at the silent hour To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes With virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture."

"Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'd With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes Take homage of the simple-minded throng; Ambassadors of heaven!"

"The Providence of heaven Has some peculiar blessing given To each allotted state below."

"Is aught so fair In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn, In nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush Of him who strives with fortune to be just? The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? Or the mild majesty of private life, Where peace with ever blooming olive crowns The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings Of Innocence and Love protect the scene?"

"Man loves knowledge, and the beams of truth More welcome touch his understanding's eye Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, Than all of taste his tongue."

"Oft the hours From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away, While mute attention hung upon his lips."

"Heaven's all-subduing will, With good the progeny of ill, Attempreth every state below."

"Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale."

"The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise."

"Than Timoleon's arms require, And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre."

"Can art, alas! or genius guide the head Where truth and freedom from the heart are fled? Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, When the prime function of the soul is broke?"

"To thee, and gentle Rigdom Funnidos, Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded."

"The king shall eat, though all mankind be starved."

"Go call a coach, and let a coach be called; And let the man who calleth be the caller; And in his calling let him nothing call But “Coach! Coach! Coach! Oh for a coach, ye gods!”"

"Of all the days that's in the week I dearly love but one day, And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday."

"Aldeborontiphoscophornio! Where left you Chrononhotonthologos?"

"His cogitative faculties immersed In cogibundity of cogitation."

"What a monstrous tail our cat has got!"