17. "Your ancient house?" No more: I cannot see The wondrous merits of a pedigree:

-Nor of a proud display

Of smoky ancestors in wax and clay.

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

18. What boots it on the lineal tree to trace,

Through many a branch, the founders of our race-
Time-honoured chiefs-if, in their right, we give

A loose to vice, and like low villains live?

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

19. Fond man! though all the honours of your line
Bedeck your halls, and round your galleries shine
In proud display, yet take this truth from me—
Virtue alone is true nobility!

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

20. How shall we call those noble, who disgrace
Their lineage, proud of an illustrious race?
Who seek to shine by borrow'd lights alone,
Nor with their fathers' glories blend their own?

21.

Whence his name

GIFFORD'S Juvenal.

And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it that, perchance, they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

ANGER-TEMPER-RAGE.

1. Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath,
Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife,
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scathe,
Bitter despite, with rancour's rusty knife,
And fretting grief-the enemy of life.

SPENSER'S Fairy Queen.

38

ANGER-TEMPER-RAGE.

2. Madness and anger differ but in this : This is short madness, that long anger is.

3. My rage is not malicious; like a spark Of fire by steel enforc'd out of a flint, It is no sooner kindled, but extinct.

4. O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world.

ALEYN.

GoFFE.

SHAKSPEARE.

5.

Anger is like

A full hot horse, who being allow'd his way,

Self-mettle tires him.

SHAKSPEARE.

6. Come not between the dragon and his wrath.

SHAKSPEARE.

7. Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd.

8. Those hearts that start at once into a blaze, And open all their rage, like summer storms At once discharg'd, grow cool again and calm.

CONGREVE.

C. JOHNSON.

9. When anger rushes unrestrain❜d to action,
Like a hot steed it stumbles in its way:
The man of thought strikes deepest, and strikes safest.

SAVAGE.

10. Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes,
And screams of horror rend the vaulted skies;
Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast,
When husbands, or when lap-dogs, breathe their last;
Or when rich china vessels, fallen from high,
In glittering dust and painted fragments lie.

POPE.

11. From loveless youth to unrespected age, No passion gratified, except her rage.

POPE.

12. And to be wroth with one we love,

Doth work like madness in the brain.

13. Of all bad things by which mankind are curs'd, Their own bad tempers surely are the worst.

COLERIDGE.

CUMBERLAND'S Menander.

14. And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye; The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

15. Patience !-Hence-that word was made
For brutes of burden, not for birds of prey;
Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine,—
I am not of thine order.

16. All furious as a favour'd child

Balk'd of its wish; or, fiercer still,

BYRON'S Manfred.

A woman piqued, who has her will.

BYRON'S Mazeppa.

17. For his was not that blind, capricious rage,
A word can kindle and a word assuage;
But the deep working of a soul unmix'd
With aught of pity, where its wrath had fix'd.

BYRON'S Lara.

18. His brow was like the deep when tempest-tost.

BYRON'S Vision of Judgment.

19. Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last.

BYRON'S Childe Harold.

20. The ocean lash'd to fury loud,
Its high waves mingling with the cloud,
Is peaceful, sweet serenity

To anger's dark and troubled sea.

21. At this she bristled up with ire—

J. W. EASTBURNE.

Her bosom heav'd-her eye glanc'd fire;
The blush that late suffus'd her face,
To deeper crimson now gave place;

40

ANIMAL-BEAST - BRUTE.

Those eyes, that late were bright with joy,
Glared now like lightning to destroy;
And she with such resentment burn'd
As only woman feels when scorn'd.

J. T. WATSON.

ANIMAL-BEAST-BRUTE.

1. But they do want the quick discerning power,
Which doth in man the erring sense correct;
Therefore the bee did suck the painted flower,

And birds, of grapes the cunning shadow peck'd.
DAVIES' Immortality of the Soul.

2. The subtle dog scours, with sagacious nose,

Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows;
Against the wind he takes his prudent way,
While the strong gale directs him to the prey.
Now the warm scent assures the covey near;
He treads with caution, and he pants with fear:
Then close to ground in expectation lies,
Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise.

GAY'S Rural Sports.

3. A colt, whose eyeballs flamed with ire, Elate with strength and youthful fire.

4. The lion is, beyond dispute,

Allow'd the most majestic brute;
His valour and his generous mind
Prove him superior of his kind.

5. Had fate a kinder lot assign'd,
And form'd me of the lap-dog kind,
I then, in higher life employ'd,
Had indolence and ease enjoy'd;

GAY's Fables.

GAY's Fables.

6.

7.

8.

9.

And, like a gentleman caress'd,

Had been the lady's favourite guest.

The wily fox remain'd,

A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around
In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.

GAY's Fables.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

Of all the brutes by nature form'd,
The artful beaver best can bear the want
Of vital air; yet, 'neath the whelming tide,
He lives not long; but respiration needs
At proper intervals.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

Let cavillers deny

That brutes have reason; sure 't is something more,
"T is heaven directs, and stratagems inspire
Beyond the short extent of human thought.

SOMERVILE'S Chase.

The snappish cur
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies.

POPE.

10. The hare, timorous of heart, and hard beset
By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs,
And more unpitying man.

THOMSON'S Seasons.

11. And, scorning all the taming arts of man, The keen hyena, fellest of the fell.

THOMSON'S Seasons.

12. The lively, shining leopard, speckled o'er With many a spot, the beauty of the waste.

13.

THOMSON'S Seasons.

He stands at bay,

And puts his last faint refuge in despair;

The big round tears run down his dappled face;

He groans in anguish.

THOMSON'S Seasons.