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CRITICISM.

CRITICISM.

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I would beg the critics to remember, that Horace owed his favour and his fortune to the character given of him by Virgil and Varus; that Fundamus and Pollio are still valued by what Horace says of them; and that, in their golden age, there was a good understanding among the ingenious; and those who were the most esteemed, were the best natured. a. WENTWORTH DILLON (Earl of Roscommon)-- Preface to Horace's

Art of Poetry. The press, the pulpit, and the stage, Conspire to censure and expose our age. b. WENTWORTH DILLON (Earl of Roscommon)-- Essay on Translated

Verse. Line 7. It is much easier to be critical than to be correct. DISRAELI (Earl of Beaconsfield)-Speech in House of Commons.

Jan'y 24, 1860. The most noble criticism is that in which the critic is not the antagonist so much as the rival of the author. d. Isaac DISRAELI-Curiosities of

Literature. Literary Journals. The talent of judging may exist separately from the power of execution. e. Isaac DISRAELI-- Curiosities of

Literature. Literary Dutch. Those who do not read criticism will rarely merit to be criticised. f. Isaac DISRAELI -- Literary Character of

Men of Genius. Ch. VI. You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public on the stage; And it I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don't view me with a critic's eye, But pass my imperfections by. 9. DAVID EVERETT-- Lines written for a

School Declamation. Reviewers are forever telling authors, they can't understand them. The author might often reply: Is that my fault ? le. J. C. and A. W. HARE - Guesses at

Truh. The readers and the hearers like my books, But yet some writers cannot them digest; But what care I? for when I make a feast, I would my guests should praise it, not the

cooks. i. Sir John HARRINGTON— Against Writers that Carp at other Men's

Books. Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author. ji LONGFELLOW— Kavanagh. Ch. XIII.

The strength of criticism lies only in the weakness of the thing criticised,

k. LONGFELLOW-Kavanagh. Ch. XXX.

It may be laid down as an almost universal rule that good poets are bad critics. 1. MACAULAY - Criticisms on the Principal

Italian Writers. Dante. The opinion of the great body of the reading public is very materially influenced even by the unsupported assertions of those who assume a right to criticise. MACAULAY, Mr. Robert Montgomery's

Poems. To check young Genius' proud career,

The slaves, who now his throne invaded, Made Criticism his prime Vizir, And from that hour his glories faded.

MOORE - Genius and Criticism. Ah ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, Nor in the Critic let the Man be lost.

POPE--Essuy on Criticism. Line 522. And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade, Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have

made. p.

POPE-Dunciad. Bk. IV. Line 125. A perfect Judge will read each work of Wit With the same spirit that its author writ: Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to

find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the

mind. 9. POPE- Essay on Criticism. Line 235. Be not the first by whom the new are tryd, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

POPE- Essay on Criticism. Line 336.
I lose my patience, and I own it too,
When works are censur'd not as bad but new;
While if our Elders break all reason's laws,
These fools demand not pardon, but Ap-

plause.
POPE- Second Book of Ilorace. Ep. I.

Line 115.
In every work regard the writer's End,
Since none can compass more than they

intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.

t. POPE- Essay on Criticism. Line 255. Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.

Pope, Essay on Criticism. Line 6. The gen'rous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire.

POPE- Essay on Criticism. Line 100. The line too labours, and the words more

slow.

POPE- Essay on Criticism. Line 370. With pleasure own your errors past, And make each day a critic on the last.

POPE - Essay on Criticism. Line 571. Critics I read on other men, And hypers upon them again ; From whose remarks I give opinion On twenty books, yet ne'er look in one. y. PRIOR-An Epistle to Fleetwood

Shepherd, Esq.

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CRITICISM.

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In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its com-

ment.
b. Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3.

'Tis a physic That's bitter to sweet end.

c. Measure for Measure. Act IV. Sc. 6.

For, poems read without a name
We justly praise, or justly blame;
and critics have no partial views,
Except they know whom they abuse.
And since you ne'er provoke their spite,
Depend upon't their judgment's right.

d. JONATHAN SWIFT- On Poetry.
How commentators each dark passage shun,
And hold their farthing candle to the sun.
Young-Love of Fame. Satire VII.

Line 97.

CURIOSITY.
I loathe that low vice, Curiosity.

BYRON— Don Juan. Canto I. St. 23.
The poorest of the sex have still an itch
To know their fortunes, equal to the rich.
The dairy-maid inquires, if she shall take
The trusty tailor, and the cook forsake.
p. DRYDEN- Sixth Satire of Juvenal.

Line 762. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. 9. GOLDSMITH-She Stoops to Conquer.

Act III. I saw and heard, for we sometimes Who dwell this wild, constrained by want,

come forth To town or village nigh (nighest is far), Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear, What happens new; fame also finds us out. Milton-Paradise Regained. Bk. I.

Line 330. Preach as I please, I doubt onr curious men. POPE-Second Book of Horace.

Satire XI. Line 17. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity, than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness.

t. King Lear. Act I. Sc. 4. They mocked thee for too much curiosity. Timon of Athens. Act IV. Sc. 3.

I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inlaid ground, applying to his ear The con volutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely.

WORDSWORTH-The Excursion. Bk, 6.

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CRUELTY.

Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn. j. Buexs- Man Was Made to Mourn.

Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain. 9. COWPER- The Task. Bk. III.

Line 326.

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It's not the linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives.
he HooD--Song of the Shirt.

The Puritans hated bearbaiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators. i. MACAULAY -- History of England.

Vol. I. Ch. III.

V.

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CUSTOM Great things astonish us, and small dishearten: Custom makes both familiar. DE LA BRUYERE- The Characters or Manners of the Present Age.

Vol. II. Ch. II. Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate, In all things ruled-mind, body, and estate; In pain, in sickness, we for cure apply To them we know not, and we know not why.

X. CRABBE--Tale. The Gentleman Farmer.

I must be cruel, only to be kind.

1. Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 4.

And to my mind, though I am a native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honor'd in the breach than the observ-

ance.
y
Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 4.

Custom calls me to 't:What custom wills, in all things should we

do 't? The dust on antique time would lie un

swept, And mountainous error be too highly heap'd For truth to overpeer.

Coriolanus. Act II. Sc. 3.

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CUSTOM.

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That monster, custom, * * is angel yet

in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on.

c. Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 4.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice driven bel of down.

d. Othello. Act I. Sc. 3. Use can almost change the stamp of nature.

Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 4.

New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are followed.

2. Henry VIII. Act. I. Sc. 3.

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DARKNESS.

The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, life

less-A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirr'd within their silent

depths; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as

they dropp'd They slept on the abyss without a surgeThe waves were dead; the tides were in their

grave, The Moon, their mistress, had expired be

fore; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd! Darkness had no

need Of aid from them-She was the Universe!

f. BYRON--Darkness. The prayer of Ajax was for light; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night.

g. LONGFELLOW— The Goblet of Life. Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and

earth, And ere a man had power to say,- Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up. h. Midsummer Night's Dream. Act I.

Sc. 1. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, And to thy state of darkness hie thee

straight; I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. i. Comedy of Errors. Act IV. Sc. 4.

The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that

mantle Their clearer reason.

i Tempest. Act V. Sc. 1.

I count my time by times that I meet thee; These are my yesterdays, my morrows, noons And nights, these are my old moons and my

new moons. Slow fly the hours, fast the hours flee, If thou art far from or art near to me: If thou art far, the bird's tunes are no tunes; If thou art near, the wintry days are JunesDarkness is light and sorrow cannot be. Thou art my dream come true, and thou my

dream, The air I breathe, the world wherein I dwell, My journey's end thou art, and thou the way; Thou art what I would be, yet only seem; Thou art my heaven and thou art my hell; Thou art my ever-living judgment day. GILDER— The New Day. Pt. IV.

Sonnet VI

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Blest power of sunshine!- genial Day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel there is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, -
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow, of the tomb.
MOORE - Lalla Rookh. The Fire

Worshippers.
O how glorious is Noon day!
With the cool large shadows lying
Underneath the giant forest,
The far hill-tops towering dimly

O'er the conquered plains below. b. D. M, MULOCK-A Stream's Singing. How troublesome is day! It calls us from our sleep away; It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake, And sends us forth to keep or break

Our promises to pay; How troublesome is day! THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK-Fly-ByNight. (Paper Money Lyrics.)

0, such a day, So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won.

d. Henry IV. Pt. II. Act I. Sc. 1. The sun is in the heaven, and the proud diy, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton.

King John. Act III. Sc. 3. What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it

done; That it in golden letters should be set, Among the high tides in the kalendar?

f. King John. Act III. Sc. 1. Count that day lost whose low descending Views from thy hand no worthy action done.

g. STANIFORD-Art of Reading. A day for Gods to stoop, And men to soar. h. TENNYSON--The Lover's Tale.

Line 304. One of those heavenly days that cannot die.

i. WORDSWORTH — Nutting. "I've lost a day”—the prince who nobly

cried, Had been an emperor without his crown. j. Young-Night Thoughts. Night II.

Line 99. DEATH. Death is a black camel, which kneels at the gates of all.

k. ABD-EL-KADER.
But when the sun in all his state,

Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through Glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.
l. ALDRICH - A Death Bed.

Sinless, stirless rest-
That change which never changes.
EDWIN ARNOLD- Light of Asia.

Bk. VI. Line 642.

It is as natural to die as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as faithful as the other.

Bacon- Essay. Of Death. Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark.

BACON -- Essay. Of Death. Death is the universal salt of states; Blood is the base of all things-law and war, P. BAILEY- Festus. Sc. A Country Town.

The death-change comes. Death is another life. We bow our heads At going out, we think, and enter straight Another golden chamber of the king's Larger than this we leave, and lovelier. And then in shadowy glimpses, disconnect. The story, flower like, closes thus its leaves. The will of God is all in all. He makes, Destroys, remakes, for His own pleasure all.

9. BAILEY Festus. Sc. Home. On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses

are blending, And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. 1. JAMES BEATTIE- The Hermit. St. 6.

Last lines. Death hath so many doors to let out life.

BEAUMONT and FLETCHER- The
Custom of the Country. Act. II.

Sc. 2. How shocking must thy summons be, O

Death! To him that is at ease in his possessions; Who, counting on long years of pleasure

here, Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come!

1. BLAIR - The Grave. Line 3. Sure 'tis a serious thing to die! My soul, What a strange moment must iť be, when Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulf in

view! That awful gulf no mortal e'er repass'd To tell what's doing on the other side. Nature runs back, and shudders at the sight, And every life-string bleeds at thoughts at

parting; For part they must: body and soul must

part; Fond couple! link'd more close than wedded

pair. This wings its way to its Almighty Source, The witness of its actions, now its judge; That drops into the dark and noisome grave, Like a disabled pitcher of no use. BLAIR - The Grave. Line 334.

All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.

BRYANT -- Thanatopsis. All things that are on earth shall wholly pass

away, Except the love of God, which shall live and

last for aye.

BRZANT - Trans. The Love of God.

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DEATH.

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He slept an iron sleep, -
Slain fighting for his country.
BRYANT's Homer's liad. Bk. XI.

Line 285.

They die
An equal death, -the idler and the man
Of mighty deeds.
b. Bryant's Homer's Niad. Bk. IX.

Line 396. I have been dying for years, now I shall be

gin to live.
Jas. DRUMMOND BURNS— His Last

Words. Ah! surely nothing dies but something

mourns. d. BYRON--Don Juan. Canto III.

St. 108. Death, so called, is a thing which makes men

weep, And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep. BYRON- Don Juan. Canto XIV.

St. 3.
He who hath bent him o'er the dead,
Ere the first day of death is fled-
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
(Before Decay's effacing fingers,
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers)—
And mark'd the mild angelic air,
The rapture of repose that's there.

BYRON--The Giaour. Line 68.
Oh, God ! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood.

g. Byron-- Prisoner of Chillon. St. 8. So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.

h. BYRONThe Giaour. Line 92.
The absent are the dead--for they are cold,
And ne'er can be what once we did behold;
And they are changed, and cheerless, -or if

yet
The unforgotten do not all forget,
Since thus divided-equal must it be
If the deep barrier be of earth, or sea;
It may be both—but one day end it must
In the dark union of insensate dust.

i. BYRON- A Fragment. Without a grave-unknell'd-uncoffin'd and

unknown. j. Byron-Childe Harold. Canto IV.

St. 179. 'Tis ever wrong to say a good man dies. k. CALLIMACHUS-Epigram on a Good

Man. Some men make a womanish complaint that it is a great misfortune to die before our time. I would ask what time? Is it that of Nature? But she indeed, has lent us life, as we do a sum of money, only no certain day is fixed for payment. What reason then to complain if she demands it at pleasure, since it was on this condition that you received it.

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Death, be not proud, though some have

called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost

overthrow, Die not, poor Death. DONNE- Divine Poems. Holy Sonnets.

No. 17. One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou

shalt die. p. Donne-Divine Poems. Holy Sonnets.

No. 17. He was exhald; his Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew. 9. DRYDEN- On the Death of a Very

Young Gentleman.
Led like a victim, to my death I'll go,
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the

blow.
DRYDEN— The Spanish Friar. Act II.

Sc. 1. Death is the king of this world: 'tis his park Where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of

pain Are music for his banquet. GEORGE ELIOT- Spanish Gypsy.

Bk. 2. Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.

1. EMERSON--Good-Bye.

Drawing near her death, she sent most pious thoughts as harbingers to heaven; and her soul saw a glimpse of happiness through the chinks of her sickness-broken body. FULLER-- The Holy and the Profane

State. Bk. I. Ch. II. To die is landing on some silent shore, Where billows never break nor tempests

roar: Ere well we feel the friendly stroke 'tis oe'r. GARTH The Dispensary. Canto III.

Line 225. Where the brass knocker, wrapt in flannel

band, Forbids the thunder of the footman's hand, Th' upholder, rueful harbinger of death, Waits with impatience for the dying breath.

GAY-- Trivia. Bk. II. Line 467. Can storied urn or animated bust

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?

GRAY-- Elegy. St.

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