BROWN. GIBBONS.-BLACKSTONE.

333

JOHN BROWN. 1715-1766.

Now let us thank the Eternal Power: convinced
That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction, -
That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour
Serves but to brighten all our future days.

Barbarossa. Act v. Sc. 3.

And coxcombs vanquish Berkeley by a grin.

An Essay on Satire, occasioned by the Death of Mr. Pope.1

THOMAS GIBBONS. 1720-1785.

That man may last, but never lives,
Who much receives but nothing gives;

Whom none can love, whom none can thank,

Creation's blot, creation's blank.

When Jesus dwelt.

SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE.

1723-1780.

The royal navy of England hath ever been its greatest defence and ornament; it is its ancient and natural strength, the floating bulwark of our island.

Commentaries. Vol. i. Book i. Ch. xiii. § 418.

Time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.

Ch. xviii. § 472.

1 Anderson's British Poets, Vol. x. p. 879. See note in Contemporary Review, September, 1867, p. 4.

MARK AKENSIDE. 1721-1770.

Such and so various are the tastes of men.

Pleasures of the Imagination. Book iii. Line 567.

Than Timoleon's arms require,

And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
Ode. On a Sermon against Glory. Stanza ii.

The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,
And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.

Epistle to Curio.

The Virtuoso. Stanza x.

HORACE WALPOLE. 1717-1797.

Harry Vane, Pulteney's toad-eater.

Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 1742.

The world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy

to those who feel.

Ibid., 1770.

A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does not misbecome a monarch.1 Ibid., 1774.

The whole nation hitherto has been void of wit and humour, and even incapable of relishing it. Ibid., 1778.

1 A little nonsense now and then

Is relished by the wisest men. — - Anon.

2 It requires a surgical operation to get a joke well into a Scotch understanding. - Sydney Smith, Lady Holland's Memoir, Vol. i.

HURD.-FORDYCE. - HOME.

335

RICHARD HURD. 1720-1808.

In this awfully stupendous manner, at which Reason stands aghast, and Faith herself is half confounded, was the grace of God to man at length manifested.

Sermons.

Vol. ii. p. 287.

JAMES FORDYCE. 1720-1796.

Henceforth the majesty of God revere;

Fear Him, and you have nothing else to fear.1
Answer to a Gentleman who apologized to the Author for Swearing.

Of my distracting grief, I found myself
As women wish to be who love their lords.

Douglas. Act i. Sc. 1.

My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only son, myself, at home.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die. Act v. Sc. 1.

1 Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n'ai point d'autre crainte.

Racine (1639-1699), Athalie, Act i. Sc. 1.

From Piety, whose soul sincere

Fears God, and knows no other fear.

W. Smyth, Ode for the Installation of the Duke of
Gloucester as Chancellor of Cambridge.

Ode in 1746.

WILLIAM COLLINS. 1720-1756.

How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blessed!

By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,

To dwell a weeping hermit there.

Ibid.

When Music, heavenly maid, was young,

While yet in early Greece she sung. The Passions. Line 1.

Filled with fury, rapt, inspired.

Line 10.

'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild.

Line 28.

Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 'T is virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.

Line 95.

Eclogue 1. Line 5.

Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part;

Nature in him was almost lost in Art.

To Sir Thomas Hanmer on his Edition of Shakespeare.

In yonder grave a Druid lies.

Ode on the Death of Thomson.

Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer!

List, ye landsmen, all to me; Messmates, hear a brother sailor Sing the dangers of the sea.

The Storm.

SAMUEL FOOTE. 1720-1777.

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.

O poor Robinson Crusoe!

The Mayor of Garratt. Act i. Sc. 1.

TOBIAS SMOLLETT. 1721-1771.

Thy spirit, Independence, let me share;
Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,

Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,

Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

Thy fatal shafts unerring move,

Ode to Independence.

I bow before thine altar, Love! Roderick Random. Ch. xl.

Facts are stubborn things.1

Translation of Gil Blas. Book x. Ch. 1.

1 Facts are stubborn things.

Elliot (1747), Essay on Field Husbandry, p. 35.