Sidor som bilder




Do not believe what I tell you here any more than if it were some tale of a tub.


("Tale of a Tub," title of a work of SWIFT's.) Stands not within the prospect of belief.

Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 74.

A thing that nobody believes cannot be proved too often.

BERNARD SHAW—Devil's Disciple. Act III.
There littleness was not; the least of things
Seemed infinite; and there his spirit shaped
Her prospects, nor did he believe, -He saw.

WORDSWORTH-Excursion. Bk. I. St. 12.
I have believed the best of every man,
And find that to believe it is enough
To make a bad man show him at his best,
Or even a good man swing his lantern higher.

What ardently we wish, we soon believe.

YOUNG-Night Thoughts. Night VII. Pt.

While the steeples are loud in their joy,
To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding,
Let us chime in a peal, one and all,
For we all should be able to sing Hullah baloo.

HOOD-Song for the Million.
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,

The ringers ran by two, by three;
“Pull, if ye never pulled before;

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
“Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells,

Play uppe The Brides of Enderby.”
JEAN ÎNGELOW--High Tide on the coast of




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II. L. 1311. (See also CÆSAR)

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The church-going bell.

The bells themselves are the best of preachers, COWPER- Verses supposed to be written by Their brazen lips are learned teachers, Alexander Selkirk.

From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,

Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
The vesper bell from far

Shriller than trumpets under the Law.
That seems to mourn for the expiring day. Now a sermon and now a prayer.
DANTE-Purgatorio. Canto 8. L.6. CARY's LONGFELLOW-Christus. The Golden Legend.

Pt. III.

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Hear the sledges with the bells,

Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells!

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night,
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the Heavens seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight:
Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bellsFrom the jingling and the tingling of the bells.

PoE-The Bells. St. 1.



Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we hear,
Flatter, and but cheat our ear.
This doth put us still in mind
That our flesh must be resigned,
And, a general silence made,
The world be muffled in a shade.
(Orpheus' lute, as poets tell,
Was but moral of this bell,
And the captive soul was she,
Which they called Eurydice,
Rescued by our holy groan,
A loud echo to this tone.)

SHIRLEYThe Passing Bell.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,

Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells

Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden notes,

And all in tune

What a liquid ditty floats "To the turtle dove that listens while she gloats

On the moon!
PoE-The Bells. St. 2.

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With deep affection
And recollection
I often think of

Those Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle

Their magic spells.
FATHER PROUT (Francis Mahony). The Bells

of Shandon.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

TENNYSON— In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.

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And the Sabbath bell, That over wood and wild and mountain dell Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical, most melancholy.

SAMUEL ROGERS—Human Life. L. 517.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.
TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.

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A feather in hand is better than a bird in the air. HERBERTJacula Prudentum.

(See also CERVANTES) Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood. HEYWOOD-Proverbs. Pt. I. Ch. XI.

(See also CERVANTES) 17 The nightingale has a lyre of gold,

The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,

But I love him best of all.

Qui dedit beneficium taceat; narret, qui accepit.

Let him that hath done the good office conceal it; let him that hath received it disclose it. SENECA-De Beneficiis. II. 11.

5 Inopi beneficium bis dat, qui dat celeriter.

He gives a benefit twice who gives quickly. SYRUS, in the collection of proverbs known as

the Proverbs of Seneca. Beneficia usque eo læta sunt dum videntur exsolvi posse; ubi multum antevenere pro gratia odium redditur.

Benefits are acceptable, while the receiver thinks he may return them; but once exceeding that, hatred is given instead of thanks. TACITUS-Annales. IV. 18.

For his song is all the joy of life,

And we in the mad spring weather, We two have listened till he sang

Our hearts and lips together.
W. E. HENLEY-Echoes.



When the swallows homeward ily,
When the roses scattered lie,
When from neither hill or dale,
Chants the silvery nightingale:
In these words my bleeding heart
Would to thee its grief impart;
When I thus thy image lose
Can I, ah! can I, e'er know repose?
KARL HERRLOSSOHN When the Swallows

Homeward Fly.




Betula Rippling through thy branches goes the sun

shine, Among thy leaves that palpitate forever, And in thee, a pining nymph had prisoned The soul, once of some tremulous inland river, Quivering to tell her woe, but ahl dumb, dumb

forever. LOWELL—The Birch Tree.

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Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who

taught The dialect they speak, where melodies

Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys,

Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught! LONGFELLOWTales of a Wayside Inn. The

Poet's Tale. The Birds of Killingworth.


A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. CERVANTESDon Quixote. Pt. I. Ch. IV. (See also HERBERT, HEYWOOD, PLUTARCH)



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Every bird that upwards swings

As this auspicious day began the race Bears the Cross upon its wings.

Of ev'ry virtue join'd with ev'ry grace; Ascribed to JOHN MASON NEALE.

May you, who own them, welcome its return,

Till excellence, like yours, again is born. He is a fool who lets slip a bird in the hand

The years we wish, will half your charms imfor a bird in the bush.

pair; PLUTARCHOf Garrulity.

The years we wish, the better half will spare;

The victims of your eyes will bleed no more, (See also CERVANTES)

But all the beauties of your mind adore. Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,

JEFFREY-Miscellanies. To a Lady on her

Birthday. With joyous musick wake the dawning day!

13 POPE-Pastorals. Spring. L. 23.

Believing hear, what you deserve to hear:

Your birthday as my own to me is dear. A little bird told me.

Blest and distinguish'd days! which we should King Henry IV. Pt. II. Last lines. See also

prize Mahomet's pigeon, the “pious lie”, Life of The first, the kindest bounty of the skies. Mahomet in Library of Useful Knowledge. But yours gives most; for mine did only lend Note p. 19. ARISTOPHANES—Aves. See Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend. Robinson's Antiquities. Greek, Bk. III. MARTIAL-Epigrams. Bk. IX. Ep. 53. Ch. XV. ad init. Ecclesiastes. X. 20.

My birthday!-what a different sound That byrd ys nat honest

"That word had in my youthful ears; That fylythe hys owne nest.

And how each time the day comes round,
SKELTONPoems against Garnesche. III. Less and less white its mark appears.

MOORE-My Birthday.
The bird
That glads the night had cheer'd the listening

Lest, selling that noble inheritance for a poor groves with sweet complainings.

mess of perishing pottage, you never enter into SOMERVILLEThe Chace.

His eternal rest. (See also GRAY)

PENN-No Cross no Crown. Pt. II. Ch. XX.


(See also Genesis) Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop Man alone at the very moment of his birth, About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food

cast naked upon the naked earth, does she Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer

abandon to cries and lamentations. flood;

PLINY The Elder-Natural History. Bk. VII. And those that under Araby's soft sun

Sec. II. Build their high nests of budding cinnamon.

(See also BURTON) MOORE-Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan.

Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear;

'Tis but the funeral of the former year. BIRTH; BIRTHDAY

POPE-To Mrs. M. B. L. 9. He is born naked, and falls a whining at the first.

The dew of thy birth is of the womb of the BURTON—Anatomy of Melancholy. Pt. I. Sec. morning. II. Mem. 3. Subsect. 10.

The Psalter. Psalms. CX. 3. (See also PLINY, WISDOM OF SOLOMON; and 19 TENNYSON, under BABYHOOD)

"Do you know who made you?" "Nobody,

as I knows on," said the child, with a short Esaw selleth his byrthright for a messe of potage, laugh. The idea appeared to amuse her considChapter heading of the Genevan version and

erably; for her eyes twinkled, and she added Matthew's Bible of Genesis XXV. (Not in

“I 'spect I growed. Don't think nobody authorized version.)

never made me. (See also PENN)


Cabin. Ch. XXI. A birthday:--and now a day that rose

20 With much of hope, with meaning rife As some divinely gifted man, A thoughtful day from dawn to close:

Whose life in low estate began, The middle day of human life.

And on a simple village green; JEAN INGELOW-A Birthday Walk.

Who breaks his birth's invidious bar. 11

TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Canto 64. And show me your nest with the young ones in it,

When I was born I drew in the common air, I will not steal them away;

and fell upon the earth, which is of like nature, I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet and the first voice which I uttered was crying, I am seven times one to-day.

as all others do. JEAN INGELOW-Songs of Seven. Seven Times Wisdom of Solomon. VII. 3. One.

(See also BURTON)







Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes

the flowers of poesy bloom In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of

the loom. LONGFELLOWNuremberg. L. 34. Under a spreading chestnut tree

The village smithy stands:
The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.
LONGFELLOWThe Village Blacksmith.

BLACKBIRD The birds have ceased their songs, All save the blackbird, that from yon tall ash, 'Mid Pinkie's greenery, from his mellow throat, In adoration of the setting sun, Chants forth his evening hymn.

MOIR-An Evening Sketch.
Golden Bill! Golden Bill!

Lo, the peep of day;
All the air is cool and still,
From the elm-tree on the hill,

Chant away:



Let thy loud and welcome lay
Pour alway
Few notes but strong.

MONTGOMERYThe Blackbird.

3 A slender young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree: A spruce little fellow as ever could be; His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black, So long was his tail, and so glossy his back, That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs, And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, Thought there never was seen such a beautiful

bird. D. M. MULOCKThe Blackbird and the Rooks.

As great Pythagoras of yore,
Standing beside the blacksmith's door,
And hearing the hammers, as they smote
The anvils with a different note,
Stole from the varying tones, that hung
Vibrant on every iron tongue,
The secret of the sounding wire,
And formed the seven-chorded lyre.

LONGFELLOW-To a Child. L. 175.


And he sang: "Hurra for my handiwork!"

And the red sparks lit the air; Not alone for the blade was the bright steel

made; And he fashioned the first ploughshare. CHAS. MACKAY—Tubal Cain. St. 4.


O Blackbird! sing me something well:

While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.

TENNYSON—The Blackbird.

In other part stood one who, at the forge Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass Had melted.

MILTONParadise Lost. Bk. XI. L. 564.


I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool.

King John. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 193.


The paynefull smith, with force of fervent heat,
The hardest yron soone doth mollify,
That with his heavy sledge he can it beat,
And fashion it to what he it list apply.





BLACKSMITH 5 Curs'd be that wretch (Death's factor sure) who

brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man's left to epitomize! ABRAHAM COWLEY-In Commendation of the

Time we live under, the Reign of our gracious

King, Charles II. Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged; 'tis at a

white heat now: The billows ceased, the flames decreased; though

on the forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play through the

sable mound; And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths

ranking round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands

only bare; Some rest upon their sledges here, some work

the windlass there. SAMUEL FERGUSONThe Forging of the An

chor. St. 1.

BLESSINGS 'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. ARMSTRONG—Art of Preserining Health. Bk.

IV. L. 260.

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The smith and his penny both are black.

HERBERT-Jacula Prudentum.



And the smith his iron measures hammered to

the anvil's chime;

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.

CONGREVE-Mourning Bride. Act. V. Sc. 3.

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