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From every drachm of mercy.

2.

CRUELTY-TORTURE.

1. A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, Incapable of pity, void and empty

The poor beetle, that we tread upon,

SHAKSPEARE.

In corporal suffering feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

SHAKSPEARE.

3.

Do not insult calamity;

It is a barbarous grossness to lay on

The weight of scorn, where heavy misery
Too much already weighs men's fortunes down.

4. Thou shalt behold him stretch'd in all the agonies
Of a tormenting and a shameful death!
His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,
Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain.

5.

DANIEL.

OTWAY'S Venice Preserved.

Bring forth the rack:

Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames;

He shall be bound and gash'd, his skin fleec'd, burnt alive;
He shall be hours, days, years, a-dying!

NAT. LEE.

6. Wire-draw his skin, spin all his nerves like hair, And work his tortur'd flesh as thin as flame.

7. I reverence the coachman who cries "Gee,"
And spares the lash. When I behold a spider
Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm,

Or view a butcher, with horn-handled knife,
Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton-

Indeed, indeed, I'm very, very sick!

NAT. LEE.

Rejected Addresses.

166

CRUELTY - TORTURE.

8. The savage brute, that haunts in woods remote, And deserts wild, tears not the fearful traveller, If hunger, or some injury, provoke not.

9. Oh! rather fail this ardent breath,
And palsied sink this hand in death,
Ere with keen taunt and lingering blow
I hover o'er a fallen foe!

ROWE.

MRS. HOLFORD'S Margaret of Anjou.

10. His was the sternest, hardest breast That ever burnish'd cuirass press'd.

MRS. HOLFORD'S Margaret of Anjou.

11. Thy suing to these men were as the bleating Of the lamb to the butcher, or the cry

12.

13.

Of seamen to the

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And ponder still

BYRON'S Corsair.

On pangs that longest rack, and latest kill.

A saint had cried out,

Even with the crown of glory in his eyes,
At such inhuman artifice of pain

As was forc'd on him.

BYRON'S Two Foscari.

14. Nurtur'd in blood betimes, his heart delights In vengeance gloating on another's pain.

15. Humanity is policy in war,

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

And cruelty's a prodigal, that heaps
A suicidal burthen on itself.

DAWES' Athenia of Damascus.

CURIOSITY.

1. I loathe that low vice, Curiosity.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

2. Since that first fatal hour when Eve, With all the fruits of Eden blest,

Save only one, rather than leave

That one unknown, lost all the rest.

MOORE's Loves of the Angels.

3. It reign'd in Eden, in that heavy hour
When the arch-tempter sought our mother's bower,
In thrilling charms her yielding heart assail'd,
And even o'er dread Jehovah's word prevail'd.

4. "Tis Curiosity-who hath not felt Its spirit, and before its altar knelt?

5. Be it a bonfire, or a city's blaze,

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

The gibbet's victim, or the nation's gaze,
A female atheist, or a learned dog,
A monstrous pumpkin, or a mammoth hog,
A murder, or a muster;-'t is the same,
Life's follies, glories, griefs,—all feed the flame.

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

6. Sport drops his ball, Toil throws his hammer by, Thrift breaks a bargain off, to please his eye.

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

7. How many a noble art, now widely known, Owes its young impulse to this power alone!

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

8. As down the pane the rival rain-drops chase,
Curious he'll watch to see which wins the race;
And let two dogs beneath his window fight,
He'll shut his Bible to enjoy the sight.

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

168

CURSES-MALEDICTIONS.

9. How thro' the buzzing crowd he threads his way, To catch the flying rumours of the day.

SPRAGUE'S Curiosity.

CURSES-MALEDICTIONS.

1. May all th' infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, upon him fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease!

2.

Poison be their drink!

SHAKSPEARE.

Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste!—
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings!
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss!

And boding screech-owls make their concerts full!

SHAKSPEARE.

3. May sorrow, shame, and sickness overtake her, And all her beauties, like my hopes, be blasted!

4.

5.

Let the world grow dark,

That the extinguish'd sun may hide thy shame!

And when life declines,

ROWE.

AARON HILL.

May thy sure heirs stand titt'ring round thy bed,
And, ush'ring in their fav'rites, burst thy locks,
And fill their laps with gold, till want and care
With joy depart, and cry, "We want no more!"

6. May the grass wither from thy feet! the woods
Deny thee shelter! earth a home! the dust
A grave! and heaven her God!

7. So let him stand, through ages yet unborn, Fix'd statue on the pedestal of scorn!

SHENSTONE.

BYRON'S Cain.

BYRON'S Curse of Minerva.

8. May screaming night-fiends, hot in recreant gore,
Rive their strain'd fibres to their heart's rank core,
Till startled conscience heap, in wild dismay,
Convulsive curses on the source of day!

ROBERT TREAT PAINE.

9. But curses are like arrows shot upright,
That oftentimes on our own heads do light:
And many times ourselves in rage prove worst ;
The fox ne'er better thrives than when accurst.

DRYDEN'S Ovid.

CUSTOM-HABIT.

1. All habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.

2. Custom's the world's great idol we adore, And, knowing this, we seek to know no more. What education did at first conceive,

Our ripen'd eye confirms us to believe.

POMFRET.

3.

A custom

More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

SHAKSPEARE.

4. How use doth breed a habit in a man!

SHAKSPEARE.

5. Custom does often reason overrule,

6.

And only serves for reason to the fool.

Custom forms us all;

Our thoughts, our morals, our most fix'd belief,
Are consequences of our place of birth.

7. Custom, 't is true, a venerable tyrant,

O'er servile man extends her blind dominion.

ROCHESTER.

AARON HILL.

THOMSON.

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