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On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
- The Hermit (st. 6, last lines)
Old age come on apace to ravage all the clime.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 25) [Age]
Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn:
But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
- The Minstrel (bk. I) [Fate]
Zealous, not modest.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 11) [Zeal]
Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 11)
[Character : Zeal]
From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 13) [Contentment]
No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it past,
To the fond husband and the faithful wife.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 14) [Matrimony]
And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting Sun.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 30) [Rainbows]
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.
- The Minstrel (bk. I, st. 44) [Drinking]
Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
With here and there a violet bestrown,
Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
- The Minstrel (bk. II, st. 17) [Graves]
And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.
- The Minstrel (bk. II, st. 24) [Lying]
Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.
- The Minstrel (bk. II, st. 30) [Ignorance]
How sweet the words of Truth, breath'd from the lips of Love.
- The Minstrel (bk. II, st. 53) [Truth]
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
- The Minstrel (st. 1) [Fame]
Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And oft on soaring pinions hover'd o'er
The lofty palace then his own no more.
- Vergil (pastoral 6) [Lapwings]
I dare not hope to please a Cinna's ear.
Or sing what Varus might vouchsafe to hear;
Harsh are the sweetest lays that I can bring,
So screams a goose where swans melodious sing.
- Vergil (pastoral 9), his translation
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