Extracts from “Friendship”
WHAT virtue, or what mental grace,
But men unqualified and base
Will boast it their possession?
Profusion apes the noble part
Of liberality of heart,
And dulness, of discretion.
If every polished gem we find
Illuminating heart or mind,
Provoke to imitation;
No wonder friendship...
Modernized by H. Macaulay Fitzgibbon
IF ye would love and lovèd be,
In mind keep well these thingis three,
And sadly in thy breast imprint,—
Be secret, true and patient!
For he that patience can not leir,
He shall displeasance have perquier,
Though he had all this worldis rent:
Be secret, true and patient!
For who that...
From “On Friendship”
OF all the heavenly gifts that mortal men commend,
What trusty treasure in the world can countervail a friend?
Our health is soon decayed; goods, casual, light and vain;
Broke have we seen the force of power, and honor suffer stain.
In body’s lust man doth resemble but base brute;
True virtue gets and keeps a friend, good...
Take the world as it is!—there are good and bad in it,
And good and bad will be from now to the end;
And they, who expect to make saints in a minute,
Are in danger of marring more hearts than they ’ll mend.
If ye wish to be happy ne’er seek for the faults,
Or you ’re sure to find some thing or other amiss;
’Mid much that debases, and much...
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min’?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne?
CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We ’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine;...
From the Greek by Charles Whibley
EROS is missing. In the early morn
Forth from his bed the rascal took his flight.
Sweet are his tears; his smile is touched with scorn—
A nimble-tongued, swift-footed, fearless sprite!
And he is winged; his hands a quiver bear.
What father ’t was begot him none can tell.
“He is not mine,”...
A Violet in her lovely hair,
A rose upon her bosom fair!
But O, her eyes
A lovelier violet disclose,
And her ripe lips the sweetest rose
That ’s ’neath the skies.
A lute beneath her graceful hand
Breathes music forth at her command;
But still her tongue
Far richer music calls to birth
Than all the...
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes,
Which starlike sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free.
Be you not proud of that rich hair,
Which wantons with the lovesick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone...
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Where all imperial glory shines:
Of selfsame color is her hair,
Whether unfolded, or in twines:
Heigh-ho, fair Rosalynd!
Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
Refining heaven by every wink;
The gods do fear whenas they glow,
And I do tremble when I think
Heigh-ho, would she were mine...
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from starlike eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires:—
...
