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Young.

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AMBITION.

Ambition, in the truly noble mind,

With sister... Virtue, is for ever joined.

In meaner minds, Ambition works alone,

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But, with sly art, | puts Virtue's aspect on. No mask, in basest mind, Ambition wears, But, in full light, | pricks up her ass's ears. AMBITION DISSATISFIED.— Young. Consult the ambitious,-'tis ambition's cure: 5 f.st

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"And is this all?" cried Cæsar, [in his height,

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AMBITION REPENTED.— Brooke.

Oh! that some villager, [whose early toil
Lifts the penurious morsel to his mouth. |

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Had claimed my birth! ambition had not then

Thus stept 'twixt me and heaven.

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He climbs, he pants, he grasps them. At his heels,
Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,

And with a dextrous jerk | soon twists him down,

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And wins them,... but to lose them in his turn.

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ANCESTRY.- - Alex. Bell.

If we must look to ancestry for fame,

Let us at least deal justly with mankind.

Why should we rake the ashes of the dead

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For honours only? why conceal their crimes?

We snatch our fathers' glories from the dust,

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And wear them [as our own: | Why should we seek

To cover with oblivion their shames?

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The frailties of our sires, [set full in view |

Might teach their children modesty.

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ANGER.- -Baillie.

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Out upon thee, fool! Go, speak thy... comforts

To spirits tame and abject as thyself;

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They make me... mad.

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Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffused;

[As poison heals, in just proportion used :

In heaps, like ambergris, | a stink it lies,

But, well dispersed, is incense to the skies.

BEAUTY.—Baillie.

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude,

Subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul;

Yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth,

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And lead him forth as a domestic cur.

These are the triumphs of all powerful beauty!

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Oh! dark, dark, dark, [amid the blaze of noon, |

Irrevocably dark-total eclipse—

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Without all hope of day! |

O, first created beam, and thou, great Word,

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"Let there be light," and light was [over all; ↓

Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?

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Shall die forgotten all: the poor, the prisoner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,

Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, |

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Shall cry to Heaven, and pull a blessing on thee.

CHILDHOOD.

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The world of a child's imagination is the creation of a far holier spell than hath been ever wrought [by the pride of learning, or the inspiration of poetic fancy. Innocence that thinketh no evil; ignorance that apprehendeth none; hope that hath experienced no blight: love that suspecteth no guile: these are its ministering angels! these wield a wand of power, making this 2 s earth a paradise!—Time, [hard, rigid teacher! | Reality, [rough, stern reality! | World, [cold, heartless world! that ever your

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sad experience, your sombre truths, your killing cold, your withering success, could scare those gentle spirits from their holy

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temple! And wherewith do ye replace them? With caution, | that repulses confidence, | with doubt, [that repelleth love; |

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with reason that dispelleth delusion; with fear, [that poisoneth enjoyment; in a word, with knowledge.—that fatal fruit, the

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tasting whereof, [at the first onset, | cost us paradise.

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Commentators each dark passage shun.

And hold their... farthing candle to the sun

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Patience! Hence,-that word was made

For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey;-

Preach it to mortals of a dust like thine,

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His.

... milk-white hand the palm is hardly clean.

But here and there, an ugly smutch appears.

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Foh! 'twas a bribe that left it.

Corruption.

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He has touched

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The intent and not the deed |

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Is in our power; and therefore, who dares greatly,

Does greatly.

CONFLICTING PASSIONS.

Shakespeare.

I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad!

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I will not trouble thee! my child, farewell!

We'll no more meet, no more see one another!

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But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,

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Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh-
Which I must needs call mine! thou art a boil-

A plague-sore-an embossed carbuncle,

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In my corrupted blood... But I'll notchide thee :

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Let shame come when it will. I do not call it.

I do not bid the thunder-bearer strike,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : 4f Ex

Mend, when thou canst; be better—at thy leisure!

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Torture thou mayst, but... thou shalt ne'er despise me.

The blood will follow where the knife is driven,

The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear;

And sighs and cries [by nature grow on pain:

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But these are foreign to the soul:

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not mine

The groans that issue, or the tears that fall;

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They disobey me! [On the rack | I scorn thee.

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Use every man according to his desert, and who shall escape

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whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.

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within me,—

The fountain of my heart dried up

With nought that lov'd me, and with nought to love,

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I stood upon the desert earth... alone;

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And in that deep and utter agony, |

[Though then, [than ever | most unfit to die, |

I fell upon my knees, and prayed for death.

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As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,

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