SHAKESPEARE.
Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.
_The Minstrel, Bk. I_. J. BEATTIE.
True, conscious honor is to feel no sin;
He's armed without that's innocent within.
_Imitation of Horace, Epistle 1. Bk. I_. A. POPE.
INSECTS.
My banks they are furnished with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep.
_A Pastoral Ballad, Pt. II_. W. SHENSTONE.
Here their delicious task the fervent bees
In swarming millions tend: around, athwart,
Through the soft air, the busy nations fly,
Cling to the bud, and with inserted tube,
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul;
And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare
The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows,
And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.
_The Seasons: Spring_. J. THOMSON.
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
_Poems_. E. DICKINSON.
O'er folded blooms
On swirls of musk,
The beetle booms adown the glooms
And bumps along the dusk.
_The Beetle_. J.W. RILEY.
I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower,
Where roses and lilies and violets meet.
_I'd be a Butterfly_. T.H. BAYLY.
Rose suddenly a swarm of butterflies,
On wings of white and gold and azure fire;
And one said: "These are flowers that seek the skies,
Loosed by the spell of their supreme desire.
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