LA VITA DELL'UOMO,

IL passato non è, ma se lo pinge
La viva rimembranza;

Il futuro non è, ma se lo finge
La credula speranza ;

Il presente sol è, ma in un baleno

Passa del nulla in seno;

Onde la Vita è appunto

Una memoria, una speranza, un punto.

TRANSLATION.

THE past! what is it but a gleam
Which mem'ry faintly throws ?
The future! 'tis the fairy dream
That hope and fear compose.
The present is the lightning glance
That comes and disappears.
Thus Life is but a moment's trance,
Of mem'ries, hopes, and fears.

Le plaisir de l'harmonie, n'est qu'un plaisir de pure sensation, et la jouissance des sons est toujours courte, la satiété et l'énnui la suivent de près; mais le plaisir de la melodie et du chant est un plaisir d'interêt et de sentiments, qui parle au cœur, et, que l'artiste peut toujours soutenir à force de génie.

J. J. ROUSSEAU.

I AM now what their most famed ancestors were, the mean man raised into eminence by his own exertions; and surely it is a boast as honourable to have those capacities, which are necessary to the foundation of a family, as to be descended from one who possessed them some centuries before.

WALTER SCOTT.

For me, an honest fame on virtue built,
Is what I would not lose to gain a kingdom:
'Tis greater far to beg with innocence

Than to command with guilt.

LEWIS.

IT is not now equally harmless and insignificant whether we are right or wrong; since we are no longer supinely and helplessly carried down the stream of events, but feel ourselves capable of buffeting at least with its waves, and perhaps of riding triumphantly over them: for why should we despair that the reason which has enabled us to subdue all nature to our purposes, should (if permitted and assisted by the providence of God) achieve a far more difficult conquest; and ultimately find some means of enabling the collective wisdom of mankind to bear down those obstacles which individual shortsightedness, selfishness, and passion, oppose to all improvements, and by which the highest hopes are continually blighted, and the fairest prospects marred.

HERSCHEL.

THE heroic soul, amidst its bliss or woe,
Is never swell'd too high, nor sunk too low;
Stands, like its origin above the skies,

Ever the same great self, sedately wise ;
Collected and prepar'd in every stage
To scorn a courting world, or bear its rage.

HENLEY.

THE deep rooted sentiments of affection, in generous natures, are so entwined with the existence that they end but with their being. There are ties that bind together those of one family, stronger than those of taste, choice, friendship, or reason, for they enable us to love even in opposition to them all.

FORTUNE Sometimes assumes a rugged brow
But to endear her smiles, and make the turn
More welcome to us, as 'tis unexpected.

HAVARD.

REMORSE is as the heart in which it grows;
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews
Of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy,
It is a poison-tree, that pierced to the inmost
Weeps only tears of poison!

COLERIDGE.

How strongly does science represent God to us as incomprehensible! his attributes as unfathomable ! His power, his wisdom, his goodness, appear in each of the provinces of nature, which are thus brought before us; and in each, the more we study them, the more impressive, the more admirable do they appear. When then we find these qualities manifested in each of so many ways, and each manifestation rising above the preceding by unknown degrees, and through a progression of unknown extent, what other language can we use concerning such attributes than that they are infinite? What mode of expression can the most cautious philosophy suggest, other than that He, to whom we thus endeavour to approach, is infinitely wise, powerful, and good?

WHEWELL.

THE eye that will not weep another's sorrow, Should boast no gentler brightness than the glare That reddens in the eye-ball of a wolf.

MASON.

A MAN who sells his conscience for his interest, will sell it for his pleasure. A man who will betray his country, will betray his friend.

MISS EDGEWORTH.

FLATTERY direct

Rarely disgusts. They little know mankind
Who doubt its operations: 'tis the key,
And opes the wicket of the human heart.

HUME.

LIFE consists not of a series of illustrious actions. The greater part of our time passes in compliance with necessities-in the performance of daily duties in the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures: and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small and frequent interruption.

JOHNSON.

LOVE! oh young Love!

Why hast thou not security? Thou art
Like a bright river, on whose course the weeds
Are thick and heavy; briars are on its banks,
And jagged stones and rocks are 'mid its waves.
Conscious of its own beauty, it will rush
Over its many obstacles and pant

For some green valley as its quiet home.
Alas! either it rushes with a desperate leap
Over its barriers, foaming passionate,
But prison'd still; or winding languidly,
Becomes dark like oblivion; or else wastes
Itself away. This is Love's history!

LETITIA LANDON.