Suit the Action to the Word and the Word to the oerstep not the Modesty of Nature. 1816 Published by Mawman, & the rest of the Proprietors Printed by S.Hamilton, Weybridge, Surry Shakespeare.. ELEGANT EXTRACTS. POETICAL. BOOK THE THIRD. DRAMATIC, CHIEFLY FROM SHAKSPEARE. Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull § 1. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. Advice. SHAKSPEARE. I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me! In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere, Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. Twas pretty tho' a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table: heart, too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favor! But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics. A parasitical vain Coward. I know him a notorious liar; Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft Impossible be strange attempts to those To show her merit, that did miss her love? King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship He had the wit which I can well observe say (Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears; but grafted them To grow there, and to bear) Let me not live' -Thus his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out- Let me not live,' quoth he, 'After my flame lacks oil; to be the snuff 'Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judge[stancies 'Mere fathers of their garments; whose conExpire before their fashions'-This he wish'd. ments are BELLE. (From the Illustrated London News.) I. What tribute shall we give the brave, Who ward the blow that tyrants deal And vengeance they would wreak? The meed they claim-the wreath of fame, Living, th' applause of grateful crowds II. And what the tribute greater still Look up from sunlight to the sun, The fairer ray, more bright than day, Who ask no recompense of men, To save a brother's life, And shame, by greater bravery, The bravest deeds of strife? III. What shall we give them-souls sublime, When frantic seas assault the shore, And whirl the helpless bark On treacherous sands, hear far away, "The boom of guns, the seaman's cry, Then launch their skiff, through blinding foam "Their errand, Love; their only guides, IV. Heroes of Peace! no pomp of war, No splendour of the soldier's craft, Or hope of joys to come, Make quick their pulse with high resolve, Or nerve their honest hands; "They only feel that mercy calls, And at its high commands "They look at peril face to face, With calm, untroubled eye; And, when it bursts, undaunted still, They meet it-and defy! V. What shall we give them? Honour? Fame? Ay, these, and something more "The gratitude of free men's hearts, And tribute from their store; Yet, not to satisfy a debt "Twould beggar gold to pay, But, for example to the world, High gleaming to the day; The gallant hearts-the hardy wights- The hapless "Northern Belle." VI. And those who died-the noble nine? If nought can dry those widows' tears, To help them in their hour of need And teach their babes in future days Jan. 14, 1857. CHARLES MACKAY, a |