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JOANNA BAILLIE
Scottish poet and dramatist
(1762 - 1851)
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This pure air
  Braces the listless nerves, and warms the blood:
    I feel in freedom here.
      - [Country]

Though duller thoughts succeed, the bliss e'en of a moment still is bliss.
      - [Bliss]

Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.
      - [Time]

'Tis ever thus when favours are denied;
  All had been granted but the thing we beg:
    And still some great unlikely substitute--
      Your life, your soul, your all of earthly good--
        Is proffer'd, in the room of one small boon.
      - [Favors]

'Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base;
  Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence,
    Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh
      When morning shines upon it.
      - [Mob]

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul; yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, and lead him forth as a domestic cur,--these are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.
      - [Attractiveness : Beauty]

To struggle when hope is banished!
  To live when life's salt is gone!
    To dwell in a dream that's vanished!
      To endure, and go calmly on!
        The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
          For that were stupid and irrational;
            But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues,
              And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
      - [Courage]

Twice it call'd, so loudly call'd,
  With horrid strength, beyond the pitch of nature;
    And murder! murder! was the dreadful cry,
      A third time it return'd with feeble strength,
        But o' the sudden ceas'd, as though the words
          Were smother'd rudely in the grappl'd throat,
            And all was still again, save the wild blast
              Which at a distance growl'd--
                Oh! it will never from my mind depart!
                  That dreadful cry, all i' the instant still'd.
      - [Murder]

War is honorable
  In those who do their native rights maintain;
    In those whose swords an iron barrier are
      Between the lawless spoiler and the weak;
        But is, in those who draw th' offensive blade
          For added power or gain, sordid and despicable
            As meanest office of the worldly churl.
      - [War]

Woman's grief is like a summer storm, short as it is violent.
      - [Women]

Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
  The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.
      - Address to Miss Agnes Baillie on her Birthday
         (l. 126) [Words]

Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
  Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field,
    Still on their dinner turn--
      Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home,
        And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.
      - Basil (act I, sc. 1) [Eating]

The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
  For that were stupid and irrational;
    But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues,
      And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
      - Basil (act III, sc. 1, l. 151) [Fear]

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
  Short as it violent is.
      - Basil (act V, sc. 3) [Women]

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
  But those who slide along the grassy sod,
    And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
      There are who in the path of social life
        Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,
          And sting the soul.
      - De Montfort (act I, sc. 2) [Deceit]

A willing heart adds feather to the heel
  And makes the clown a winged Mercury.
      - De Montfort (act III, sc. 2) [Will]

The tyrant now
  Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
    The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
      He now dare trust.
      - Ethwald (pt. II, act V) [Tyrants]

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
  Just parted from the shore,
    And to the fisher's chorus-note,
      Soft moves the dipping oar!
      - Oh, Swiftly Glides the Bonnie Boat, a song
        [Boating]

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
  Like infant charity.
      - Orra (act III, sc. 1, The Chough and Crow)
        [Wind]

Good-morrow to thy sable beak,
  And glossy plumage, dark and sleek,
    Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
      Cock of the heath, so wildly shy!
      - The Black Cock (st. 1) [Cocks]

Sweet sleep be with us, one and all!
  And if upon its stillness fall
    The visions of a busy brain,
      We'll have our pleasure o'er again,
        To warm the heart, to charm the sight,
          Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.
      - The Phantom--Song [Dreams]


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