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JAMES BEATTIE
Scottish poet
(1735 - 1803)
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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)
        [Immortality]

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
        [Geese]


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