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4. Oh! she was perfect past all parallel.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

5. I have been often dazzled by the blaze
Of sunlike beauty; but, till now, ne'er knew
Perfected loveliness - all the harmonies

Of form, of feature, and of soul, display'd
In one bright creature.

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S. P. CHASE.

PERSEVERANCE. (See IDLENESS.)

PHILANTHROPY.- (See KINDNESS.)

PHILOSOPHY.

1. I pray thee, peace; I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently;
However they have writ the style of gods,
And made a pish at chance and sufferance.

SHAKSPEARE.

2. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

3. How charming is divine Philosophy!

Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.

SHAKSPEARE.

MILTON'S Comus.

448

4.

PHRENOLOGY.

Philosophy consists not

In airy schemes, or idle speculations:
The rule and conduct of all social life
Is her great province.

5. Alas! had reason ever yet the power
To talk down grief, or bid the tortur'd wretch
Not feel his anguish? "Tis impossible!

6. Divine philosophy! by whose pure light
We first distinguish, then pursue the right;
Thy power the breast from every error frees,
And weeds out all its vices by degrees.

THOMSON.

WHITEHEAD.

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

7. Oh, who, that has ever had rapture complete, Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet? How rays are confus'd, or how particles fly

8.

Through the medium refin'd of a glance or a sigh?

Is there one, who but once would not rather have known it,
Than written, like Harvey, whole volumes upon it?

Sublime Philosophy!

Thou art the patriarch's ladder, reaching heaven,
And bright with beckoning angels; but, alas!
We see thee, like the patriarch, but in dreams,
By the first step, dull slumbering on the earth.

MOORE.

BULWER'S Richelieu.

PHRENOLOGY.

1. For of the soul the body form doth take; For soul is form, and doth the body make.

SPENSER.

2. In vain we fondly strive to trace

The soul's reflection in the face;

In vain we dwell on lines and crosses,
Crooked mouths, or short proboscis.
Boobies have look'd as wise and bright
As Plato or the Stagyrite;

And many a sage

and learned skull

Has peep'd through windows dark and dull.

3. And yet, in spite of ridicule, and all

The wit, which, Bumpo says, so often stirs him,
Unless upon one's head a Combe may fall,

A sharper and a Fowler thing than Gall

MOORE.

Be-Grimes him Savage-ly, and sorely Spurz-h(e)im.

J. T. WATSON.

PHYSICIAN.-(See DISEASE.)

PITY. (See FORGIVENESS.)

PLEASURE. (See ENJOYMENT.)

POET-POETRY.

1. The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;

And, as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

SHAKSPEARE.

450

POET-POETRY.

2. I'd rather be a kitten, and cry, mew,

Than one of those same metre ballad-mongers.

3.

Who first found out that curse,

T' imprison and confine his thoughts in verse,
To hang so dull a clog upon the wit,

And make his reason to his rhyme submit.

SHAKSPEARE.

4. As wine, that with its own weight runs, is best,
And counted much more noble than the rest,
So is the Poetry, whose generous strains
Flow without servile study, art, or pains.

5. But those, that write in rhyme, still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
I think's sufficient at one time.

6. And rhyme the rudder is of verses,

BUTLER.

BUTLER.

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

BUTLER'S Hudibras.

7. Read, meditate, reflect, grow wise - in vain ;

Try every help, force fire from every spark;
Yet shall you ne'er the poet's power attain,

If heaven ne'er stamp'd you with the muses' mark.

8. Then, rising with Aurora's light,

The muse invok'd, sit down to write.
Blot out, correct, insert, refine,

Enlarge, diminish, interline;

Be mindful, when invention fails,

To scratch your head, and bite your nails.

AARON HILL.

DEAN SWIFT.

9. Thou source of all my bliss, of all my woe,
Thou found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so!

GOLDSMITH.

10. A needless Alexandrine ends the song,

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

POPE'S Essay on Criticism.

11. Even copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,

The last and greatest art ·

the art to blot.

POPE'S Essay on Criticism.

12. Married to immortal verse,
Such as meeting souls may pierce,
In notes of many a winding bout,
In linked sweetness long drawn out.

13. There is a pleasure in poetic pains, That none but poets know.

14.

And I have felt

A passion that disturb'd me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interpos'd,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting sun,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and on the mind of man.

15. 'Tis long disputed, whether poets claim

From art or nature their best right to fame;
But art, if not enrich'd by nature's vein,
And a rude genius of uncultur'd strain,

MILTON.

WORDSWORTH.

WORDSWORTH.

Are useless both; but when in friendship join'd,
A mutual succour in each other find.

FRANCIS' Horace.

16. But he, the bard of every age and clime,
Of genius fruitful, and of soul sublime,
Who, from the glowing mint of fancy, pours
No spurious metal, fused from common ores,
But gold, to matchless purity refin❜d,

And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind.

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

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