54 ARGUMENT. ARISE. Be calm in arguing; for fierceness makes He'd undertake to prove, by force Butler. In arguing too, the parson owned his skill, ARISE-AROSE. HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Marybuds begin To ope their golden eyes; And everything that pretty bin: Arise! arise! He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies Shakspere. Dryden, from Virgil. But absent, which fantastic woes aroused, Arouse thee, soul! God made not thee to sleep Thomson. In doing nought thy hour of life away; O use it for His glory while you may. Robert Nicol. ARM-ARMS-ARMED. O GOD thy arm was here! And not to us but to Thy arm alone Ascribe we all. The sword Of Michael from the armoury of God Shakspere. Was given him tempered so, that neither keen Milton. With plain heroic magnitude of mind, And celestial vigour armed, he Their armories and magazines continued. Milton. Beneath the lowering brow, and on a bent, The whole division that to Mars pertains, Dryden. True conscious honour is to feel no sin; And with the beech in mutual shade combines. Gay. For if our God, the Lord armipotent, Those armed angels in our aid send down, Thou wilt come down with them, and will defend In every heart Fairfax. Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war; 56 ARM. ARROGANCE. The first artificer of death; the shrewd And by the law of arms What law is that? 'Tis not the law of God, nor yet above it. Cowper. Henry Taylor. Who is the happy warrior? who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous spirit who hath wrought Among the plans of real life; 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends -Who comprehends his trust, and to the same The army, like a lion from his den, Wordsworth. Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, A human hydra issuing from its fen, To breathe destruction in its winding way.-Byron. ARROGANCE. PRIDE hath no other glass To show itself but pride; for supple knees Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. Our poet may Himself admire the fortune of his play; And arrogantly, as his fellows do, Shakspere. Think he writes well because he pleases you. Dryden. Who not content With fair equality, fraternal state, Milton. ᎪᎡᎢ . 57 ART-ARTIST. THE art of our necessities is strange, In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, Shakspere. Shakspere. Rich with the spoils of many a conquered land, Blest with each grace of nature and of art. Even copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, Dryden. Pope. Tir'd at first sight, with what the muse imparts, Yet 'tis not to adorn and gild each part, Jewels at nose and lips but ill appear; Rather than all things art, let none be there. If there be nothing else between. Pope. Men doubt because they stand so thick i' the sky, If those be stars which paint the galaxy. Ah! the artist's life Is pilgrimage. He may not tarry on Cowley. One spot of earth; he is drawn for aye towards Herder. Perhaps this cruel nymph well knows to feign Gay. What thing a right line is, the learned know; Lord Brooke. Such is the strength of art, rough things to shape, And of rude commons rich enclosures make. James Howell. For though I must confess an artist can * * In vain with love our bosoms glow, New lustre to those charms impart? Sir William Jones, from the Persian. |