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Wc hold these truths to be self-evident, that Righteousness exalteth a nation. all men are created equal; that they are endowel Proverbs. XIV. 34. by their Creacor with certain inalienable rights; chat among these are Life, Liberty, and the I have been young, and now am old; yet have pursuit of happiness.
I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed THCMAS JEFFERSON-Declaration of Independ- begging bread. ence oj' the U.S. of America.
Psalms. XXXVII. 25. 4
Let us have faith that Right makes Might, The righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree: and in that faith let us to the end dare to do our he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. duty as we understand it.
Psalms. XCII. 12.
RIVERS (GENERAL TOPIC)
And see the rivers how they run 5
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun, With malice toward none, with charity for all, Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see Wave succeeding wave, they go the right.
A various journey to the deep, ABRAHAM LINCOLN—Second Inaugural Ad- Like human life to endless sleep! dress. March 4, 1865.
JOHN DYER—Grongar Hill. L. 93.
The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards, (i.e. everything is turned topsy turvy).
Might was the measure of right.
CYDIDES. IV. 86. PLAUTUS—Truncul. IV.
Two ways the rivers
Love. Same idea in Merry Wives of Windsor.
Every man has by the law of nature a right to such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary for his subsistence. MORE-Utopia. Bk. II.
(See also GEORGE)
Reparation for our rights at home, and security
the Earl of Shelburne. Sept. 29, 1770.
POPE-Essay on Man. Ep. I. L. 289.
Les rivières sont des chemins qui marchant et qui portent où l'on veut aller.
Rivers are roads that move and carry us whither we wish to go. PASCAL-Pensées. VII. 38.
Viam qui nescit qua deveniat ad mare
He who does not know his way to the sea
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
Our little English Robin;
And at my casement sing,
And this our parting spring.
Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth for
lorn, His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn, A little bird took from that crown one thorn. To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head, That bird did what she could; His blood, 'tis
said, Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest; All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast. HOSKYNS-ABRAHALL—The Redbreast. A Bréton
Legend. In English Lyrics.
Then, little Bird, this boon confer,
Come, and my requiem sing,
Of everlasting spring.
On fair Britannia's isle, bright bird,
A legend strange is told of thee, — 'Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed
While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary, Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind;
And humbled to the very dust By the vile cross, while viler men
Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just. Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down
By our transgressions,-faint and weak, Crushed by an angry Judge's frown,
And agonies no word can speak, 'Twas then, dear bird, the legend says
That thou, from out His crown, didst tear The thorns, to lighten the distress,
And ease the pain that he must bear, While pendant from thy tiny beak
The gory points thy bosom pressed,
The sober brownness of thy breast!
As an especial sign of grace
Red signs of favor o'er thy race!
Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages:
There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss. Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all bis life?
BYRON-Don Juan. Canto III. St. 8.
He loved the twilight that surrounds
The border-land of old romance;
Where glitter hauberk, helm, and lance, And banner waves, and trumpet sounds, And ladies ride with hawk on wrist,
And mighty warriors sweep along, Magnified by the purple mist,
The dusk of centuries and of song. LONGFELLOW-Prelude to Tales of a Wayside
Inn. Pt. V. L. 130.
The Redbreast, sacred to the household gods,
Veuve d'un peuple-roi, mais reine encore du monde.
(Rome) Widow of a King-people, but still queen of the world. GABRIEL GILBERT-Papal Rome.
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been!
Thou sat'st a queen.
18 Omitte mirari beatæ Fumum et opes strepitumque Romæ.
Cease to admire the smoke, wealth, and noise of prosperous Rome. HORACE_Carmina. III. 29. 11.
When I am at Rome, I fast on a Saturday: when I am at Milan I do not. Do the same. Follow the custom of the church where you are. St. AUGUSTINE gives this as the advice of St.
AMBROSE to him. See Epistle to Januarius.
(See also BURTON, CERVANTES) Now conquering Rome doth conquered Rome
inter, And she the vanquished is, and vanquisher. To show us where she stood there rests alone
Tiber; and that too hastens to be gone. Learn, hence what fortune can. Towns glide
away; And rivers, which are still in motion, stay. JOACHIM DU BELLAY-Antiquitez de Rome.
(Third stanza of this poem taken from JANUS VITALIS.) Trans. by WILLIAM BROWNE, from a Latin version of the same by JANUS VITALIS—In Urbem Romam Qualis est hodie. See GORDON Goodwin's ed. of Poems of WILLIAM BROWNE. Trans.
also by SPENSER, in Complaints. Every one soon or late comes round by Rome. ROBERT BROWNING-Ring and the Book. V. 296.
(See also LA FONTAINE) When they are at Rome, they do there as they see done. BURTON-Anatomy of Melancholy. III. 4. 2.
(See also AUGUSTINE)
In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge.
A coin unsordid as a bond of love
And, with the instinct of the homing dove, I gave to Rome my rendezvous and pledge. And when imperious Death
Has quenched my flame of breath, Oh, let me join the faithful shades that throng
that fount above. ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON-Italian Rhap
Tous chemins vont à Rome; ainsi nos concur
rents Crurent pouvoir choisir des sentiers différents.
All roar's lead to Rome, but our antagonists • think we should choose different paths. LA FONTAINE-Le Juge Arbitre. Fable XII. 28. 4.
(See also BROWNING)
Rome was not built in a day.
AND FLETCHER--Little French Lawyer. Act
O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet, But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat.
Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame E. E. BROWNING-A Dead Rose.
'Twas a yellow rose,
E. B. BROWNING-Aurora Leigh. Bk. VI.
E. B. BROWNING—A Lay of the Early Rose.
See the wild Waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears, With nodding arches, broken temples spread! The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!
POPE—Moral Essays. Epistle to Addison. I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry, Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me? And from within a thrilling voice replies, Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts Rush on my mind, a thousand images; And I spring up as girt to run a race!
"For if I wait,” said she, “Till time for roses be, For the moss-rose and the musk-rose, Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,
“What glory then for me
In such a company?-
E. B. BROWNING—A Lay of the Early Rose.
Red as a rose of Harpocrate.
(See also BURMANN under SECRECY)
You smell a rose through a fence:
E. B. BROWNING—Lord Walter's Wife.
E. B. BROWNING—Romance of the Swan's Nest.
The night that first we met.
Is not the rose for me.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
MIKE BEVERLY-Go Pretty Rose.
Loveliest of lovely things are they
BRYANT-A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson.
21 I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phæbus peeps in
view, For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet bonnie
mou'! BURNS—The Posie.
The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.
Yon rose-buds in the morning dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!
CHAUCER—The Romaunt of the Rose.
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
E. B. BROWNING—Aurora Leigh. Bk. II.
I did not pray Him to lay bare
The mystery to me,
And His own face to see.
Our loving lot was cast: It was the time of roses
We pluck'd them as we pass'd. HOODBallad. It was not in the Winter.
It never will rain roses: when we want
(See also LOVEMAN under RAIN) Oh, raise your deep-fringed lids that close
To wrap you in some sweet dream's thrall;
You wore but last night at the ball.
French.) See WERNER's Readings No. 8.
R. W. GILDER—The White and Red Rose.
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
KEATS- On Fame.
Pflücke Rosen, weil sie blühn,
Morgen ist nicht heut!
Morgen ist nicht heut.
To-morrow is yet far away.
In to-morrow or to-day. GLEIM-Benutzung der Zeit.
(See also HERRICK Under TIME)
Woo on, with odour wooing me,
Faint rose with fading core;
Will bloom forevermore.
Night. Pt. III. 21 Mais elle étai mond, où les plus belles choses
Ont le pire destin;
L'espace d'un matin.
It is written on the rose
In its glory's full array: