23. I own my natural weakness: I have not

Yet learn'd to think of indiscriminate murder
Without some sense of shuddering.

BYRON'S Marino Faliero.

24. They form-unite-charge-waver-all is lost!

BYRON'S Corsair.

25. The death-shot hissing from afar,
The shock, the shout, the groan of war.

BYRON'S Giaour.

26.

Theirs the strife,

That neither spares nor speaks for life.

BYRON'S Giaour.

27. But when all is past, it is humbling to tread
O'er the weltering field of the tombless dead,
And see worms of the earth and fowls of the air,
And beasts of the forest, all gathering there;

All regarding man as their prey,

All rejoicing in his decay.

BYRON'S Siege of Corinth.

28. The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

29. And torrents, swoln to rivers with their

gore.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

30. "T was blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor t' other flinch.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

31. And slaughter heap'd on high its weltering ranks.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

32. Battle's magnificently stern array.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

33. In vain he did whate'er a chief may do,
To check the headlong fury of that crew;
In vain their stubborn ardour he would tame-
The hand that kindles cannot quench the flame.

BYRON'S Lara.

78

BATTLE-FIGHTING-WAR.

1

34. Not in the conflict havoc seeks delightHis day of mercy is the day of fight; But when the field is fought, the battle won, Tho' drench'd with gore, his woes are but begun. BYRON'S Curse of Minerva. 35. Waved her dread pinion to the breeze of morn, Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn.

36. From rank to rank their vollied thunder flew.

37. Death spoke in every booming shot that knell'd

38. And when the cannon-mouthings loud

Heave in wide wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall,

Like sheets of flame in midnight pall.

J. R. DRAKE.

39. Hark! the muffled drum sounds the last march of the brave! The soldier retreats to his quarters, the grave,

Under Death, whom he owns his commander-in-chief;-
No more he'll turn out with the ready relief.

40. Now lies he low-no more to hear

The victor's shout or clashing steel;
No more of war's rude cares to bear,
No more kind sympathy to feel.
No more he charges with the host,
The thickest of the battle-field;

No more to join in victory's boast,

No more to see the vanquish'd yield.

H. CUMMINGS,

Richmond Republican.

41. The bursting shell, the gateway wrench'd asunder, The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;

And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,

The diapason of the cannonade.

LONGFELLOW.

1. The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, The observ'd of all observers.

2. Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour;
And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

3. All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth.

4. Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, and feasts, and high solemnities,
Where most may wonder at the workmanship.
It is for homely features to keep home;

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

They had their name thence; coarse complexions,
And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply
The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, and tresses like the morn?—
There was another meaning in those gifts.

MILTON'S Comus.

5. Virtue can brook the thoughts of age
That lasts the same through every stage,
Though you by time must suffer more
Than ever woman lost before!

6. "Tis not a lip or eye we beauty call, But the full force and joint effect of all.

GAY's Fables.

POPE'S Essay on Criticism.

7. If to her share some female errors fall,

Look to her face, and you'll forget them all.

8. Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay.

9. I long not for the cherries on the tree,
So much as those which on a lip I see;
And more affection bear I to the rose,
That in a cheek, than in a garden grows.

POPE.

POPE.

RANDOLPH.

10. Grace was in her steps, heaven in her eyes, In every gesture dignity and love.

MILTON'S Paradise Lost.

11. Her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shape, her features, Seem to be drawn by Love's own hand.

12. "Tis not a set of features or complexion,
The tincture of a skin, that I admire ;
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.

DRYDEN.

ADDISON'S Cato.

ADDISON.

13. And those who paint them truest, praise them most.

15. What's female beauty but an air divine,
Through which the mind's all gentle graces shine?
They, like the sun, irradiate all between ;
The body charms, because the soul is seen.

16. Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit ;
That steals so gently o'er the stripling's heart,
And gives it a new pulse unknown before!

YOUNG.

BLAIR'S Grave.

That e'er caprice invented, custom wore,
Or folly smiled on, could eclipse thy charms.

SHENSTONE.

18. To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, Subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul :These are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.

19.

But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowing of an innocent heart.

20. There was a soft and pensive grace,
A cast of thought upon her face,
That suited well the forehead high,
The eyelash dark, and downcast eye;
The mild expression spoke a mind
In duty firm, compos'd, resign'd.

JOANNA BAillie.

ROGERS' Italy.

SCOTT'S Rokeby.

21. For faultless was her form as beauty's queen, And every winning grace that love demands,

With mild attemper'd dignity was seen

Play o'er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien.

22. She was a form of life and light,

That, seen, became a part of sight;
And rose where'er I turn'd my eye,
The morning star of memory.

23. So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.
Hers is the loveliness in death,

MRS. TIGH'S Psyche.

BYRON'S Giaour.

That parts not quite with parting breath-
But beauty with that fearful bloom,
That hue, which haunts it to the tomb.

BYRON'S Giaour.