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Treason does never prosper; what's the reason?
Why, when it prospers, none dare call it treason.
Anon.

'Tis het is he- I know him now,
I know him by his pallid brow;
I know him by the evil eye
That aids his envious treachery,

Lies it within

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Upon her head she wears a crown of stars,
Through which her orient hair waves to her waist,
By which believing mortals hold her fast,
And in those golden cords are carried even
Till with her breath she blows them up to heaven.
She wears a robe enchas'd with eagles' eyes,
To signify her sight in mysteries;

Byron's Giaour. Upon each shoulder sits a milk-white dove,
And at her feet do wily serpents move:

The bounds of possible things, that I should link Her spacious arms do reach from east to west,

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And you may see her heart shine through her

breast:

Her right hand holds a sun with burning rays,
Her left a curious bunch of golden keys;
With which heav'n's gates she locketh, and dis
plays,

A crystal mirror hanging at her breast,

By which men's consciences are search'd and drest:

On her coach-wheels hypocrisy lies rack'd,

And squint-ey'd slander, with vain glory back'd;
Her bright eyes burn to dust; in which shines fate:
An angel ushers her triumphant gait;
Whilst with her fingers fans of stars she twists,
And with them beats back error, clad in mists:
Eternal unity behind her shines;

That fire, and water, earth and air combines.
Her voice is like a trumpet, loud and shrill;
Which bids all sounds in earth, and heav'n be still.
Jonson's Masques,

"Twixt truth and error, there is this diff'rence
known,
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.

Herrick

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What mark does truth, what bright distinction | No soul can soar too loftily whose aim

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Ask me not why I should love her;-
Look upon those soul-full eyes!
Look while mirth or feeling move her,
And see there how sweetly rise
Thoughts gay and gentle from a breast
Which is of innocence the nest-

Pope.

Which, though each joy were from it shred, By truth would still be tenanted!

Hoffman's Poems.

When fiction rises pleasing to the eye,
Men will believe, because they love the lie;
But truth herself, if clouded with a frown,
Must have some solemn proofs to pass her down.
Churchill.

Truth! why shall ev'ry wretch of letters
Dare to speak truth against his betters!
Let ragged virtue stand aloof,

Nor mutter accents of reproof;

Let ragged wit a mute become,

When wealth and power would have her dumb.
Churchill.

All truth is precious, if not all divine,
And what dilates the pow'rs must needs refine.
Cowper.

The sages say, dame truth delights to dwell,
Strange mansion! in the bottom of a well.
Questions are, then, the windlass and the rope
That pull the grave old gentlewoman up.
Dr. Wolcot's Peter Pindar.
What is truth? — a staff rejected.

It is a weary and a bitter task

TWILIGHT.

I love thee, twilight! for thy gleams impart
Their dear, their dying influence to my heart,
When o'er the harp of thought thy passing wind
Awakens all the music of the mind,
And joy and sorrow, as the spirit burns,
And hope and memory sweep the chords by turns.
Montgomery's World before the Flood.
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.

Wordsworth. The lady and her lover, left alone,

Back from the lip the burning word to keep,
And to shut out heaven's air with falsehood's mask,
And in the dark urn of the soul to heap
Indignant feelings - making e'en of thought
A buried treasure.

Mrs. Hemans. Verily there is nothing so false, that a sparkle of

truth is not in it.

Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. When we have hop'd, sought, striven, lost our aim, Then the truth fronts us, beaming out of darkness, Like a white brow through its o'ershadowing hair. Bailey's Festus.

Truth crush'd to earth shall rise again
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among his worshippers.

Byron.

The rosy flood of twilight's sky admired
Ave Maria! o'er the earth and sea,
That heavenliest hour of heaven is worthiest thee.

Byron.

'Twas twilight, for the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters like a veil
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one who hates us.

Byron

How fine to view the sun's departing ray
Fling back a lingering lovely after-day;
The moon of summer glides serenely by,
And sheds a light enchantment o'er the sky.
These, sweetly mingling, pour upon the sight
A pencill'd shadowing, and a dewy light-
A softened day, a half-unconscious night.
Alas! too finely pure on earth to stay,
It faintly spots the hill, and dies away.

Bryant's Poems,

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The tender Twilight with a crimson cheek
Leans on the breast of Evening.
How tenderly the trembling light yet plays
On the far-waving foliage! day's last blush
Still lingers on the billowy waste of leaves
With a strange beauty — Like the yellow flush
That haunts the ocean when the day goes by.
Isaac McLellan.

And while the rich tranquillity we view,
Hope's sweetest promises again renew,
As if the Twilight Angel hover'd there,
To waft from nature's rest a balm for care.
H. T. Tuckerman.

TYRANNY. TYRANTS.

I know him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears
Decrease not, but grow faster than their years.
Shaks. Pericles.

For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide;
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help
him;

A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy.

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Then live to be the show and gaze o' the time;
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon à pole; and under-writ
Here may you see the tyrant.

Shaks. Macbeth

I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name.

Shaks. Macbeth.

He would

Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and
Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them,
In human action and capacity,

Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world,
Than camels in their war; who have their provant
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them,

Shaks. Coriolanus. He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear; Which in his dearest need, will fly from him. Shakspeare.

Why should Cæsar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Shaks. Julius Cæsar.

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known,

Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own. Herrick.

"Twixt kings and tyrants there's this diff'rence | Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us:
The laws, corrupted to their ends that make them,
Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,
That every day starts up t' enslave us deeper.
Otway's Venice Preserved.
Unheard, the injur'd orphans now complain;
The widow's cries address the throne in vain.
Causes unjudg'd disgrace the loaded file,
And sleeping laws the king's neglect revile.

All the ambitious for the throne would fight,
For where none has the title, all have right:
Thus whilst we cast a bloody tyrant down
By blood, we raise another to the crown.
Earl of Orrery's Tryphon.

While glorious murderers
Destroy mankind, to form a tyranny,
We'll destroy tyranny, to form mankind.
Crown's Darius.

Tyranny, that savage, brutal power,
Which not protects, but still devours mankind.
Denham's Sophy.

So spake the fiend, and with necessity,
The tyrant's plea, excus'd his devilish deeds.
Milton's Paradise Lost.
When force invades the gift of nature, life,
The eldest law of nature bids defend:
And if, in that defence, a tyrant fall,
His death's his crime, not ours.

Dryden's Don Sebastian.

If I'm a traitor, think, and blush, thou tyrant,
Whose injuries betray'd me into treason,
Effac'd my loyalty, unhing'd my faith,
And hurry'd me from hopes of heav'n to hell!
All these, and all my yet unfinish'd crimes,
When I shall rise to plead before the skies,
I charge on thee, to make thy damning sure.
Dryden's Don Sebastian.

Tyrant! it irks me so to call my prince;
But just resentment, and hard usage join'd
Th' unwilling word; and grating as it is,
Take it, for 't is thy due.

Dryden's Don Sebastian.

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Prior's Soloman.

That foe to justice, corner of all law;
That beast, which thinks mankind are born for

one,

And made by heaven to be a monster's prey; That heaviest curse of groaning nations, tyranny. Rowe's Lady Jane Grey.

What, alas! is arbitrary rule? He's far the greater and the happier monarch Whose power is bounded by coercive laws, Since, while they limit, they preserve his empire. Trap's Abramule.

I am told, thou call'st thyself a king.
Know, if thou art one, that the poor have rights:
And power,
in all its pride, is less than justice.
Hill's Merope.

Yet I must tell thee, it would better suit
A fierce despotic chief of barbarous slaves,
Than the calm dignity of one who sits
In the grave senate of a free republic,
To talk so high, and as it were to thrust
Plebeians from the native rights of man.
Thomson's Coriolanus.

It is a vain attempt

To bind th' ambitious and unjust by treaties:
These they elude a thousand specious ways;
Or, if they cannot find a fair pretext,
They blush not in the face of heaven to break then
Thomson's Coriolanus
Oh! is there not

A time, a righteous time, reserv'd in fate,
When these oppressors of mankind shall feel
The miseries they give; and blindly fight
For their own fetters too?

Thomson's Sophonisbu.

Come! by whatever sacred name disguis'd,
Oppression, come! and in thy works rejoice!
See nature's richest plains to putrid fens
Turn'd by thy fury. From their cheerful bounds
See raz'd th' enlivening village, farm, and seat
First rural toil, by thy rapacious hand
Robb'd of his poor reward, resign'd the plougn,
And now he dares not turn the noxious glebe.
'Tis thine entire.

Thomson's Liberty

When those whom heav'n distinguishes o'er mil-
lions,

Profusely gives them honours, riches, power,
Whate'er th' expanded heart can wish; when they,
Accepting the reward, neglect the duty,
Or, worse, pervert those gifts to deeds of ruin;
Is there a wretch they rule so mean as they!
Guilty at once, of sacrilege to heaven,
And of perfidious robbery to man.

Mallet and Thomson's Alfred.

Inglorious bondage! human nature groans,
Beneath a vassalage so vile and cruel,
And its vast body bleeds through every vein.

Blair's Grave.
Power is a curse when in a tyrant's hands,
But in a bigot tyrant's-treble curse.

Miller's Mahomet.

Tho' the structure of a tyrant's throne
Rise on the necks of half the suffering world;
Fear trembles in the cement: Prayers and tears,
And secret curses sap its mouldering base,
And steal the pillars of allegiance from it;
Then let a single arm but dare the sway,
Headlong it turns, and drives upon destruction.
Brooke's Gustavus Vasa.

Not claim hereditary, not the trust
Of frank election;

Not even the high anointing hand of heav'n
Can authorize oppression; give a law
For lawless power; wed faith to violation;
On reason build misrule, or justly bind
Allegiance to injustice.-Tyranny
Absolves all faith; and who invades our rights,
Howe'er his own commence, can never be
But an usurper.

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Goaded by ambition's sting
The hero sunk into the king!
so perish all
Who would men by man enthral!

Brooke's Gustavus Vasa. Then he fell

To send the injur'd unredress'd away,
How great soever the offender, and the wrong'd
Howe'er obscure, is wicked, weak and vile, -
Degrades, defiles, and should dethrone a king.
Smollett's Regicide.

O thou Almighty! awful and supreme!
Redress, revenge an injur'd nation's wrongs:
Show'r down your curses on the tyrant's head!
Arise the judge, display your vengeance on him,
Blast all his black designs, and let him feel
The anxious pains with which his country groans,
Martyn's Timoleon.

Still monarchs dream

Of universal empire growing up
From universal ruin. Blast the design,
Great God of Hosts! nor let thy creatures fall
Unpitied victims at ambition's shrine !
Porteus's Death.

Byron's Waterloo. His country's wrongs and his despair to save her Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver.

Byron.

Oh power that rulest and inspirest! how
Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power
Is likest thine in heaven in outward show,
Least like to thee in attributes divine,
Tread on the universal necks that bow,
And then assure us that their rights are thine?
Byron's Dante

Oh! my own beauteous land, so long laid low,
So long the grave of thine own children's hopes,
When there is but required a single blow
To break the chain!

Byron's Danie

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