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-neither its heat nor light are anything to us in themselves; yet the shepherd would feel his heart sad if he missed it, when he lifts his eye to the brow of the mountain over which it rises when the sun descends.

MOTHER-Hopes of a.

Lamartine.

With her in mimic war they wrestle;
Beneath her twisted robe they nestle;
Upon her glowing cheek they revel,
Low bended to their tiny level;
While oft, her lovely neck bestriding,
Crows some arch imp, like huntsman riding.
This is a sight the coldest heart may feel,-
To make down rugged cheeks the kindly tear
to steal.
Joanna Baillie.
MOTION.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive Motion is the life of all things.

eyes,

And weaves a song of melancholy joy

Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy: No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine; No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine;

Bright as his manly sire the son shall be

In form and soul; but ah! more blest than he!

Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past

With many a smile my solitude repay,
And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away.
Campbell.

MOTHER-Joy of a.

As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,
What answering looks of sympathy and joy!
He walks, he speaks. In many a broken word,
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard;
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,

When rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise.
Lock'd in her arms, his arms across her flung
That name most dear, for ever on his tongue),
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,
And, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings,
How bless'd to feel the beatings of his heart,
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss
impart :

Watch o'er his slumbers, like the brooding dove, And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love.

Rogers.

MOTHER AND HER INFANT.
There is a sight all hearts beguiling,-
A youthful mother on her infaut smiling,
Who, with spread arms and dancing feet,
And cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.
Who does not love to see the grandame mild
Lesson with yearning looks the listening child?
But 'tis a thing of saintlier nature,
Amidst her friends of pigmy stature,
To see the maid, in youth's fair bloom,
A guardian sister's charge assume,
And, like a touch of angel's bliss,
Receive from each its grateful kiss.

To see them, when their hour of lore is past,
Aside their grave demeanour cast;

Duchess of Newcastle.

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MOTIVES-the Result of Weakness.

Motives imply weakness, and the reasoning powers imply the existence of evil and temptation. The angelic nature would act from impulse alone. Coleridge.

MOUNTAIN-Physical Aspect of the. His proud head the airy mountain hides Among the clouds; his shoulders and his sides A shady mantle clothes; his curling brows Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows;

While winds and streams his lofty forehead beat,

The common fate of all that's high and great.
Nigh the dull shore a shapeless mountain stood,
That with a dreadful frown survey'd the flood.
Its fearful brow no lively green put on;
No frisky goats bound o'er the ridgy stone.

Garth. MOUNTAINEER-Hardihood of the.

An iron race the mountain cliffs maintain,
Foes to the gentler genius of the plain,
Who, while their rocky ramparts round they

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All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when, Nor how, so we die well; and can that man that does so

Need lamentation for him? Children weep
Because they have offended, or for fear;
Women for want of will, and anger; is there
In noble man, that truly feels both poises
Of life and death, so much of this wet weakness
To drown a glorious death in child and woman?
I'm ashamed to see ye, yet ye move me;
And were 't not my manhood would accuse me
For covetous to live, I should weep with ye.
Beaumont and Fletcher.

MUMMY-Address to a.
Thou couldst develop, if that wither'd tongue
Might tell us what those sightless orbs have

seen,

How the world look'd when it was fresh and young,

MURDER.

And the great deluge still had left it green; Or was it then so old, that history's pages Contain'd no record of its early ages?

Still silent, uncommunicative elf?

Art sworn to secrecy? then keep thy vows; But, prythee, tell us something of thyself,

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house! Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumber'd, What hast thou seen, what strange adventures numbered?

Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above-ground, seen some strange mutations,

The Roman empire has begun and ended,
New worlds have risen, we have lost old

nations;

And countless kings have into dust been

humbled,

While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. Horace Smith.

MUMMY-An Egyptian.

Statue of flesh! immortal of the dead! Imperishable type of evanescence ! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,

And standest undecay'd within our presence, Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgmentmorning,

When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning!

Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost for ever?
Oh let us keep the soul embalm'd and pure

In living virtue; that, when both must sever, Although corruption may our frame consume, Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom!

Ibid.!

MURDER-the First of Crimes.
Murder but intentional, not wrought
To horrid act, before the eternal throne
Stands forth the first of crimes. Who dares
assume,

Unwarranted, Heaven's high prerogative
O'er life and death, with double force shall find.
Turn'd on themselves the mischiefs they de-
sign'd.
Whitehead.

MURDER-Horror of.

O horror! horror! horror ! Tongue, nor heart,

Cannot conceive, nor name thee!
What's the matter?-

Confusion now hath made his master-piece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building.
Shakspeare.

MURDER-will Speak out.

Foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o'erwhelms them to men's

eyes:

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. Shakspeare. MURDERER-Doom of the.

Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day, How you will tremble there, to stand exposed The foremost in the rank of guilty ghosts, That must be doom'd for murder! think on murder !

That troop is placed apart from common crimes; The damn'd themselves start wide, and shun that band

As far more black, and more forlorn than they.
Tis terrible, it shakes, it staggers me;
I know this truth, but I repell'd the thought.
Sure there is none but fears a future state;
And when the most obdurate swear they do not,
Their trembling hearts belie their boasting
tongues.
Dryden.
MURDERER-Contending Passions of

the.

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We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
And not dismember Cæsar! But, alas,
Cæsar must bleed for it. And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.
Shakspeare.

MUSE-Influence of the.

The muse, by fate's eternal plan, designed
To light, exalt, and humanize the mind;
To bid kind pity melt, just anger glow;
To kindle joy, or prompt the sighs of woe;
To shake with horror, rack with tender smart,
And touch the finest strings that rend the
heart.
Blacklock.

MUSIC-Associations of.

Once upon a time we knew a school-boy who, if he but chanced on the street to hear an urchin blowing a whistle, or playing on a Paris pipe, would forthwith conjure up Sicily, Theocritus, Mount Ida, and the Muses in a ring; wild thyme and the drowsy hum of Hyblæan bees, Syrinx, and the old mythologies, with many a sweet old pastoral. Then he would hear the little boy piping sweetly under the great plane tree by the fountain of Callirhoëthe boy who, when asked where he learnt to play so well, answered with a look of wondering simplicity, that "it piped itself!" He would also listen in reverie to the Genius in the vision of "Mirza," or to the sweet melodies of the Good Genius in "Vathek." He would hear Blake's happy 'Songs of Innocence," or the child piping in Sir Phillip Sydney's "Arcadia," as if he would never grow old. Each or all would visit him by turns; for then every sound, present or remembered, had its instant and vivid association. Thus for years he walked, continually surrounded by a bright world of enchantment and delight, sweet sounds and visions haunting him, till at times

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it became difficult to say whether his waking or sleeping dreams were the more real.

MUSIC-Charms of.

Symington.

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That which I have found the best recreation both to my mind and body, whensoever either of them stands in need of it, is music, which exercises at once both my body and soul; especially when I play myself; for then,

MUSIC.

methinks, the same motion that my hand makes upon the instrument, the instrument makes upon my heart. It calls in my spirits, composes my thoughts, delights my ear, recreates my mind, and so not only fits me for after business, but fills my heart, at the present, with pure and useful thoughts; so that when the music sounds the sweetliest in my ears, truth commonly flows the clearest into my mind. And hence it is that I find my soul is become more harmonious, by being accustomed so much to harmony, and so averse to all manners of discord, that the least jarring sounds, either in notes or words, seem very harsh and unpleasant to me.

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To worship that celestial sound;

Pope.

MUSIC.

effect music has on us? A kind of inarticulate, unfathomable speech, which leads us to the edge of the infinite, and lets us for moments gaze into that! Carlyle.

Amid the golden gifts which Heaven
Has left, like portions of its light on earth,
None hath such influence as music hath.
The painter's hues stand visible before us
In power and beauty-we can trace the
thoughts,

Which are the workings of the poet's mind:
But music is a mystery, and viewless
Even when present, and is less man's act,
And less within his order; for the hand
That can call forth the tones, yet cannot tell
Whither they go, or if they live or die,
When floated once beyond his feeble ear;
And then, as if it were an unreal thing,
The wind will sweep from the neglected
strings,

As rich a swell as ever minstrel drew.

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Less than a God, they thought, there could MUSIC-Soothing Influence of.

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With unsuspected eloquence can move,
And manage all the man with secret art.
Addison.

Of all the arts beneath the heaven,
That man has found, or God has given,
None draws the soul so sweet away,
As music's melting, mystic lay;
Slight emblem of the bliss above,
It soothes the spirit all to love.

Through every pulse the music stole,

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st,

But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims:
Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Shakspeare.

Hogg. MUSICIANS-Influence of.

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Such was the bard, whose heavenly strains of
old

Appeased the fiend of melancholy Saul.
Such was, if old and heathen fame say true,
The man who bade the Theban domes ascend,
And tamed the savage nations with his song;
And such the Thracian, whose harmonious
lyre

Tuned to soft woe, made all the mountains
weep.

Soothed even th' inexorable powers of hell,
And half redeem'd his lost Eurydice.
Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain;
Subdues the rage of poison, and the plague;
And hence the wise of ancient days adored
One power of physic, melody, and song.
Armstrong.

MUSICIANS-Inspiration of.

Say that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart;
Write till your ink be dry; and with your

tears

Moist it again; and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity:-

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's
sinews;

Whose golden touch could soften steel and
stones,

Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps, to dance on sands.
Shakspeare.

MUSICIANS-Triumphs of.

Hail, bards triumphant ! born in happier days,
Immortal heirs of universal praise!

Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
Nations unborn your mighty names shall
sound,

And worlds applaud that must not yet be
found.
Pope.

MYSTERY-Characteristics of.

A proper secrecy is the only mystery of able men; mystery is the only secrecy of weak and cunning ones. Chesterfield.

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