THRESHER. Thump after thump, resounds the constant flail, Cowper's Task, b. 1. TIME. Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours: Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demands dispatch: How much is to be done! Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1. Youth is not rich in time, it may be poor; And what it's worth, ask death-beds; they can tell. Ibid. b. 2. Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings,. And seems to creep, decrepit with his age; Behold him, when past by: what then is seen, But his broad pinions swifter than the winds? And all mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast! cry out on his career. Young's Night Thoughts, b. 2. The day in hand, Like a bird struggling to get loose, is going, Young's Night Thoughts, n. 4. What does not fade? the tower that long had stood Time hurries on With a resistless, unremitting stream, Yet treads more soft than e'er did midnight thief, And carries off his prize. Blair's Grave. Time as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Cowper's Task, b. 4. TITLES. Titles of honour add not to his worth, Ford's Lady's Trial. Titles, the servile courtier's lean reward, The hire which greatness gives to slaves and sycophants. Rowe's Jane Shore, a. 2, s. 1. With their authors in oblivion sunk Vain titles lie, the servile badges oft Of mean submission, not the meed of worth. Thomson. TO-MORROW. To-morrow's action? Can that hoary wisdom Dr Johnson's Irene. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise, Our mountain hopes; spin out eternal schemes, And, big with life's futurities, expire. Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1. To-morrow, didst thou say? Methought I heard Horatio say, to-morrow. Against thy plenty-who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises, The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt, That gulls the easy creditor! To-morrow! It is a period no where to be found In all the hoary registers of time, Unless perchance in the fool's calendar, Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society With those that own it. No, my Horatio, 'Tis fancy's child, and folly is its father: Wrought on such stuff as dreams are; and baseless As the fantastic visions of the evening. Cotton. TORTURE. Bring forth the rack : Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames, He shall be bound and gash'd, his skin flee'd off, and burnt alive : He shall be hours, days, years, a dying. Lee's Edipus. Wire draw his skin, spin all his nerves like hair, Lee's Constantine. Thou shalt behold him stretch'd in all the agonies His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs, Otway's Venice Preserved. TRAVELLER. This is a traveller, Sir, knows men and Of his horses, and their kinds, and had a Flanders mare leap'd there. Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady. TREASON. The man, who pauses on the paths of treason, Is there not some chosen curse, Some hidden thunder in the stores of Heav'n He, who contends for freedom, Can ne'er be justly deem'd his sovereign's foe: Thomson's Edward and Eleanora, a. 1, s. 1. The man who rises on his country's ruin, Martyn's Timoleon. It is the curse of treachery like mine, Havard's Regulus. |