_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.
DISCONTENT.
Past and to come seem best; things present worst.
_King Henry IV., Pt. II. Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit
That could be moved to smile at anything.
_Julius Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.
To sigh, yet feel no pain,
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by.
_The Blue Stocking_. T. MOORE.
DISTANCE.
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky?
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?--
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way.
_Pleasures of Hope, Pt. I_. T. CAMPBELL.
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;
Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,
Frozen by distance.
_Address to Kilchurn Castle_. W. WORDSWORTH.
How he fell
From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove
Sheer o'er the crystal battlements; from morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropt from the zenith like a falling star.
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