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(23) "Ovid had been wise for winking." Page 229.

The poet Ovid was exiled for life to the shores of the Black Sea for having seen, and indiscreetly divulged, some intrigue in the family of Augustus. He complains frequently o this hard lot; for example,

"Inscia quod crimen viderunt lumina plector,

Peccatumque oculos est habuisse meum.”

But he might with greater justice have accused his tongue than his eyes.

(24) Page 238.

Madame de Staël somewhere uses these words: "To enjoy ourselves, we must seek solitude. It was in the Bastile that I first became acquainted with myself."

Scipio is reported to have originated the popular sayings, " I am never less idle than when I have most leisure," and "I am never less alone than when alone."

The Emperor Charles V., with the example of Dioclesian before him, resigned his crown, and retired from the world to the monastery of St. Just, at Plazencia, in Spain: where, as Robertson says, "he ouried in solitude and silence his grandeur and his ambition."

(*) Page 241.

It may be necessary to acquaint the reader that this section takes a retrospective glance at my former series of subjects treated in the proverbial style: a brief recapitulation of the present series follows, finishing the work.

A THOUSAND LINES.

A THOUSAND LINES.

PROLOGUE.

My heart presents her gift; in turn, of thee
I ask a little time, an idle hour,

Kindly to spend with these my thoughts and me,
Wooing the fragrance of the Muses' bower;
Not without name or note, yet nameless now
As one devoid of fame and skill and power,
Bearing no charge upon mine argent shield,
A candidate unknown with vizored brow,

Full of young hopes I dare the tented field!Not so this is no time for measuring swords; Thou art no craven though thy spirit yield, For yonder are fair looks and friendly words: Choose a more peaceful image :-here, reveal'd Shines a small sample of my golden hoards.

SLOTH.

"A LITTLE more sleep, a little more slumber,
A little more folding the hands to sleep,"
For quick-footed dreams, without order or number,
Over my mind are beginning to creep,→
Rare is the happiness thus to be raptured
By your wild whispers, my Fanciful train,
And, like a linnet, be carelessly captured
In the soft nets of my beautiful brain!

Touch not these curtains!—your hand will be tearing
Delicate tissues of thoughts and of things;—
Call me not!-your cruel voice will be scaring
Flocks of young visions on gossamer wings:
Leave me, O leave me,—for in your rude presence
Nothing of all my bright world can remain,—
Thou art a blight to this garden of pleasance,
Thou art a blot on my beautiful brain !

Cease your

dull lecture on cares and employment,
Let me forget awhile trouble and strife,
Leave me to peace,-let me husband enjoyment,—
This is the heart and the marrow of life!
For to my feeling the choicest of pleasures
Is to lie thus, without peril or pain,
Lazily listening the musical measures
Of the sweet voice in my beautiful brain!

Hush, for the halo of calmness is spreading
Over my spirit, as mild as a dove;
Hush, for the angel of comfort is shedding
Over my body his vial of love;

Hush, for new slumbers are over me stealing,
Thus would I court them again and again,
Hush,-for my heart is intoxicate,-reeling
In the swift waltz of my beautiful brain!

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