C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. Mallet
Are afflictions aught But mercies in disguise? th’ alternate cup, Medicinal though bitter, and prepar’d By love’s own hand for salutary ends.
1 He who can listen pleas’d to such applause, Buys at a dearer rate than I dare purchase, And pays for idle air with sense and virtue.
2 Look, from the turbid south What floods of flame in red diffusion burst, Frequent and furious, darted thro’ the dark And broken ridges of a thousand clouds, Pil’d hill on hill; and hark, the thunder rous’d, Groans in long roarings through the distant gloom.
3 O grant me, heav’n, a middle state, Neither too humble nor too great; More than enough for nature’s ends, With something left to treat my friends.
4 The multitude unaw’d is insolent; Once seiz’d with fear, contemptible and vain.
5 True valor, friends, on virtue founded strong, Meets all events alike.
6 Uncertainty! Fell demon of our fears! the human soul, That can support despair, supports not thee.
7 Who hath not known ill-fortune, never knew Himself, or his own virtue.
8 Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue, where patience, honor, sweet humanity, calm fortitude, take root and strongly flourish. 9 Ambition! deadly tyrant! inexorable master! what alarms, what anxious hours, what agonies of heart, are the sure portion of thy gaudy slaves? 10 The human race are sons of sorrow born; and each must have his portion. Vulgar minds refuse, or crouch beneath their load; the brave bear theirs without repining. 11 The rose was budded in her cheek, just opening to the view. 12 The vulgar refuse or crouch beneath their load; the brave bear theirs without repining. 13 Who despises fame will soon renounce the virtues that deserve it. 14
