For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem;

Το spare thee now is past my pow'r,

Thou bonnie gem.

Address to a Daisy.-ROBERT Burns.

DANGERS.

Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light; and more dangers have deceived men than forced them: nay, it were better to meet some dangers half-way, though they come nothing near, than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep.

Essay on Delays.-LORD BACON.

DARING.

The smallest worm will turn being trodden on;
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
King Henry VI. Part III. Act II. Scene II.
SHAKSPERE.

DAY. Importance of a Single

Every day is a little life: and our whole life is but a day repeated: whence it is that old Jacob numbers his life by days; and Moses desires to be taught this point of holy arithmetic, to number not his years, but his days. Those, therefore, that dare lose a day, are dangerously prodigal; those that dare mis-spend it, desperate.

Letter to Lord Denny.-BISHOP Hall.

DAY BY DAY REVELATIONS.

There's not a day, but, to the man of thought,
Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach
On life, and makes him sick of seeing more.
Night Thoughts, VIII. Line 78.-EDWARD YOUNG.

DAY and NIGHT.

By day the soul, o'erborne by life's career,
Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare,
Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng.
By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts
Imposed, precarious, broken ere mature.
By night, from objects free, from passion cool,
Thoughts uncontroll'd, and unimpress'd, the births
Of pure election, arbitrary range,

Not to the limits of one world confined,

But from ethereal travels light on earth,

By voyagers drop anchor for repose.

Night Thoughts, v. Line 115.-EDWARD YOUNG.

And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound? That dark mysterious name of horrid sound?

A long and lingering sleep the weary crave. And Peace? Where can its happiness abound? No where at all, save heaven and the grave. What is Life?-JOHN CLARE.

DEATH.

Death openeth the gate to good fame, and ex

tinguisheth envy.

Essay on Death.-LORD BACON.

DEATH. The Portrait of

Who can take

Death's portrait true? the tyrant never sat.
Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all;
Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single tale.
Death and his image rising in the brain
Bear faint resemblance; never are alike;
Fear shakes the pencil; Fancy loves excess;
Dark ignorance is lavish of her shades;
And these the formidable picture draw.

DEATH.

Night Thoughts, VI. Line 52.-EDWARD YOUNG.

A Child's idea of

I know, uncle,

We must all die; my little brother died,

I saw him die; and he died smiling. Sure,

There's no great pain in't.

Bonduca, Act IV. Scene II.-BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.

DEATH. Anticipation of

What art thou, Death! by mankind poorly feared, Yet period of their ills. On thy near shore Trembling they stand, and see through dreaded mists The eternal port, irresolute to leave

This various misery, these air-fed dreams,

Which men call life and fame.

Poem to the memory of Mr. Congreve.-JAMES THOMSON.

DEATH. Happiness of

'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest;

Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,

And kings from height of all their painted glories
Fall, like spent exhalations, to this centre:
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine
A few unhandsome pleasures, or life's profits,
Can recompense this place; and mad that stay it,
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten honours
Bring them dispersed to the earth.

DEATH. Joy in

Thierry and Theodoret, Act IV.
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.

Kings and mightiest potentates must die; For that's the end of human misery.

DEATH.

King Henry VI. Part I. Act III. Scene II.
SHAKSPERE.

The Mystery of

The Gods conceal from men the happiness of death,

that they may endure life.

Essay on Death.-LUCAN.

DEATH. Beauty in

Mount up, immortal essence!
Young spirit! hence-depart!

E

DEATH.

And is this death? dread thing!
If such thy visiting,

How beautiful thou art!

To a dying Infant.-DAVID MACBETH MOIR.

Repose in

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber,

Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion,

Cymbeline, Act IV. Scene II.-SHAKSPERE.

DEATH. The Fear and Joy of

Men fear death, he said, as if unquestionably the greatest evil, and yet no man knows that it may not be the greatest good. If, indeed, great joys are in prospect, he might, and his friends for him, with somewhat more reason regret the event; but at his years, and with his scanty fortune-though he was happy enough at seventy still to preserve both body and mind in vigour -yet even his present gratifications must necessarily soon decay. To avoid, therefore, the evils of age, pain, sickness, decay of sight, decay of hearing, perhaps decay of understanding, by the easiest of deaths (for such the Athenian mode of execution—by a draught of hemlock was reputed), cheered with the company of surrounding friends, could not be otherwise than a blessing.

Condemnation and Death of Socrates.
WM. MITFORD.