* * * * *
As soon
Seek roses in December--ice in June.
Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff.
* * * * *
Believe a woman, or an epitaph,
Or any other thing that's false, before
You trust in critics.
* * * * *
Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the
Psalms.
* * * * *
O Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!
* * * * *
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan_.
When all of Genius which can perish dies.
* * * * *
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
* * * * *
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
Sighing that Nature formed but one such man,
And broke the die in moulding Sheridan.
* * * * *
_Don Juan_.
Canto i. St. 22.
But, O ye lords of ladies intellectual!
Inform us truly, have they not henpecked you all?
Canto i. St. 117.
Whispering I will ne'er consent, consented.
Canto xiii. St. 95.
Society is now one polished horde,
Formed of two mighty tribes, the _Bores_ and _Bored_.
Canto xv. St. 13.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
* * * * *
_Hebrew Melodies_.
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