| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Tickell |
| | | | Vain man would trace the mystic maze |
| With foolish wisdom, arguing, charge his God, |
| His balance hold, and guide his angry rod, |
| New-mould the spheres, and mend the skies’ design, |
| And sound th’ immense with his short scanty line. |
| Do thou, my soul, the destined period wait, |
| When God shall solve the dark decrees of fate, |
| His now unequal dispensation clear, |
| And make all wise and beautiful appear. |
| 1 |
| A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers. | 2 |
| Now hear the trumpets’ clangor from afar, and all the dreadful harmony of war. | 3 |
| Sweet as dew-drops on the flowery lawns when the sky opens, and the morning dawns. | 4 |
| The silver empress of the night. | 5 |
| The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid. | 6 | | |
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