20. Lives of great men all remind us 21. We tell thy doom without a sigh, SANDS. H. W. LONGfellow. For thou art freedom's now, and fame's— One of the few, th' immortal names That were not born to die! FITZ-GREEN HALLECK. FANCY-IMAGINATION. 1. Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand, 2. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact. SHAKSPEARE. SHAKSPEARE. 3. This busy power is working day and night; DAVIES' Immortality of the Soul. 4. Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, DR. JOHNSON, on Shakspeare. 5. Do what he will, he cannot realize 6. Pleasant at noon, beside the vocal brook, 7. Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains, ROGERS. SOUTHEY. SCOTT'S Rokeby. 8. Where Fancy halted, weary in her flight, POLLOK'S Course of Time. 9. The beings of the mind are not of clay, Essentially immortal, they create And more belov'd existence. BYRON'S Childe Harold. 10. Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars Till he had peopled them with beings bright BYRON'S Childe Harold. 14. One of those passing rainbow dreams In trance or slumber, round the soul. MOORE'S Lalla Rookh. 15. Above, below, in ocean and in sky, Thy fairy worlds, Imagination, lie. 16. 'Mid earthly scenes forgotten or unknown, Lives in ideal worlds, and wanders there alone. CAMPBELL. CARLOS WILCOX. 17. I give you a legend from Fancy's own sketch, Tho', I warn you, he's given to fibbing-the wretch! S. G. GOODRICH. FAREWELL.-(See ADIEU.) FARMER. (See BLACKSMITH.) FASHION. (See APPAREL.) 1. Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire, 2. The poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, SHAKSPEARE. The young ones in her nest, against the owl. SHAKSPEARE. 3. Fathers their children and themselves abuse, That wealth, a husband, for their daughters choose. 4. But parents, to their offspring blind, 5. For if there be a human tear From passion's dross refin'd and clear, SHIRLEY. GAY's Fables. 6. To aid thy mind's development—to watch And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,- SCOTT. BYRON'S Childe Harold. 266 FATHER-MOTHER, &c. 7. My mother! at that holy name Within my bosom there's a gush 8. My heart grew softer as I gazed upon GEORGE P. MORRIS. That youthful mother, as she sooth'd to rest, May stoop to gaze on from their bowers of bliss, Is cradled, in a sinful world like this. MRS. A. B. WELBY. 9. Ere yet her child hath drawn its earliest breath, Is tender, though the man be made of stone. 11. Of sighs that speak a father's woe, Of pangs CHARLES SPRAGUE. 12. Sweet is the image of the brooding dove!- MRS. NORTON's Dream. |