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Yet nightly pitch my moving tent a day's Her lot until her absent Lord shall come,
And the long homeless here shall find a home.
BONAR

march nearer home.

MONTGOMERY.

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And fain would soar away on angel wings. We pine for kindred natures to mingle with

W. R. LAWRENCE.

PITY-SYMPATHY.

No radiant pearl, which crested fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears;

Not the bright stars, which night's blue arch

adorn;

Nor rising sun, that gilds the vernal morn; Shine with such luster as the tear that flows Down virtue's manly cheek for others' woes.

DARWIN.

our own.

MRS. HEMANS.

The Son of God, in doing good,

Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh; And shall the heirs of sinful blood

Seek joy unmixed in charity? God will not let love's work impart Full solace, lest it steal the heart; Be thou content in tears to sow, Blessing, like Jesus, in thy woe.

KEBLE.

O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there. WHITTIER.

PITY-PLEASURE,

For, though spotless herself, she could sorrow

for them

Who sullied with evil the spirit's pure gem; And a sigh or a tear could the erring reprove, And the sting of reproof was still tempered by love.

WHITTIER.

In every pang that rends the heart, The Man of sorrows had a part;

He sympathizes in our grief,

And to the sufferer sends relief.

LOGAN.

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Be pitiful. Whose eyes once turned from the angels to shine

And tears once filled His eye beside a mortal's Upon publicans, sinners?

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O sister, 'twill not

MISS MULOCH.

Blest is the man whose heart expands At melting Pity's call;

And the rich blessings of whose hands Like heavenly manna fall.

J. STRAPHAN.

[See also BENEVOLENCE

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NESS.]

PLEASURE.

Have mind that age aye follows youth;
Death follows life with gaping mouth,
Devouring fruit and flowering grain;
All earthly joy returns in pain.

DUNBAR.

Why, all delights are vain; but that most

vain,

Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain. SHAKSPEARE.

Admirers of false pleasure must sustain
The weight and sharpness of ensuing pain.
BEAUMONT.

While music flows around,

Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours,

Amid the roses fierce repentance rears

With even the weakness of my soul upholding Her snaky crest: a quick returning pang

The strength of thine.

WHITTIER.

Shoots through the conscious heart.

THOMSON.

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Short is the course of every lawless pleasure; | Joy graven in sense, like snow in water, wastes ; Without preserve of virtue nothing lasts.

Grief, like a shade, on all its footsteps waits,
Scarce visible in joy's meridian height;
But, downward as its blaze declining speeds,
The dwarfish shadow to a giant spreads.

In the embattled plain

MILTON.

CHAPMAN.

Pleasure, like quicksilver, is bright and coy;
We strive to grasp it with our utmost skill,
Still it eludes us, and it glitters still.

If seized at last, compute your mighty gains;

Though Death exults, and claps his raven What is it but rank poison in your veins ?

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THOMSON.

YOUNG.

Pleasure, admitted in undue degree,
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment
free.
COWPER.

Mortals, whose pleasures are their only care,
First wish to be imposed on, and then are.
COWPER.

No pleasure? are domestic comforts dead?
Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled?
Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame,
Good sense, good health, good conscience, and
good fame?

All these belong to virtue, and all prove
That virtue has a title to your love.

COWPER.

Pleasures, like wonders, quickly lose their
price

Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made, When reason or experience makes us wise.
But pleasure full of glory as of joy!
Pleasure which neither blushes nor expires.

YOUNG.

Who wants amusement in the flame of battle?
Is it not treason to the soul immortal,
Her foes in arms, eternity the prize?
Will toys amuse when medicines cannot cure?

YOUNG.

Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world,

When Pleasure treads the paths which reason shuns.

YOUNG.

O, if venerable Time

Slain at the foot of Pleasure be no crime,
Then with his silver beard and magic wand
Let Comus rise, archbishop of the land.

COWPER.

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PLEASURE - POETS POETRY.

Peace follows virtue as its sure reward,
And pleasure brings as surely in her train
Remorse, and sorrow, and vindictive pain.
COWPER.

Thou, child of pleasure, art the fly,
Drawn by the taper's dazzling glare;
Thou art the bird that meets an eye,

Alluring to the serpent's snare;

O stay! is reason lost? is conscience dumb?
Be wise, be warned, escape the wrath to come.
MONTGOMERY.

Still the dance goes gayly onward!
What is it to wealth and pride,
That without the stars are looking

On a scene which earth should hide?

WHITTIER.

247

The fountain which from Helicon proceeds,
That sacred stream should never water weeds,
Nor make the crop of thorns and thistles grow,
Which envy or perverted nature sow.

WALLER.

Poesy, thou sweet'st content
That e'er Heaven to mortals lent;
Though they as a trifle leave thee
Whose dull thoughts cannot conceive thee;
Though thou be to them a scorn

That to naught but earth are born;
Let my life no longer be

Than I am in love with thee!

WITHER.

Pity religion has so seldom found
A skillful guide into poetic ground!
The flowers would spring where'er she deign-
ed to stray,

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's And every muse attend her in the way.

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