250

HELL-continued.

HELL-HEN-PECK'D HUSBAND

A dark

Illimitable ocean, without bound,

Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height,
And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night

And Chaos-ancestor of Nature, hold

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. Milton, P. L. 11. 892.
Eternal torments, baths of boiling sulphur,
Vicissitude of fires, and then of frosts.

To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite.

Dryden.

Who never mentions hell to ears polite. Pope, M. E. 1v. 149. And bid him go to Hell, to Hell he goes. Johnson, London, 116.

Hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell is a city much like London-
A populous and a smoky city;
There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done;

Small justice shown, and still less pity.
Lawyers-judges-old hobnobbers

Boswell, Johnson, 1775.

Are there-bailiffs-chancellors-
Bishops-great and little robbers-
Rhymesters-pamphleteers-stock-jobbers—
Men of glory in the wars.

HENBANE.

Shelley, Hell, III.

Juice of cursed hebenon-whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like aigre droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood.

HEN-PECK'D HUSBAND.

Cursed be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife,
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell.
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,

Sh. Ham. 1. 5.

I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart. Burns, Henp. Husb. And every married man is certain,

T'attend the lecture called the curtain.

Lloyd, Ep. to J. B.

HEN-PECK'D HUSBAND-HESITATION.

HEN-PECK'D HUSBAND-continued.

But, O ye lords of ladies intellectual!

Inform us truly, have they not hen-pecked you all?

HERMIT.

251

Byron, D. J. 1. 22.

Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well,
Remote from men, with God he passed the days;
Prayer all his business-all his pleasure praise.

HEROES HEROISM.

For great commanders only own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.

Prodigious actions may as well be done

Parnell, The Hermit.

Butler, Hud.

By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. Dryden, Abs. & Ahit. 1.
Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed,

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede. Pope, E. M. iv. 219.
Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews,
Reward his memory, dear to every muse,
Who with a courage of unshaken root,
In honour's field advancing his firm foot,
Plants it upon the line that justice draws,
And will prevail or perish in the cause.
I know thee for a man of many thoughts,
And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both,
Fatal and fated in thy sufferings.

Cowper.

Byron, Manfred, 11. 2.

Yes, honour decks the turf that wraps their clay. Byron, C. H.

And they who for their country die,

Shall fill an honour'd grave;

For glory lights the soldier's tomb,
And beauty weeps the brave.

To the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,

Death's voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be !
HESITATION.

J. R. Drake.

Halleck, Bozzaris.

As some faint pilgrim standing on the shore,
First views the torrent he would venture o'er,
And then his aim upon the farther ground,
Loath to wade through, yet loather to go round.

Dryden.

HESITATION-continued.

He would not with a peremptory tone
Assert the nose upon his face his own;
With hesitation admirably slow,

He humbly hopes-presumes it may be so.

HESPERUS.

O Hesperus! thou bringest all good things
Home to the weary, to the hunger cheer,
To the young bird the parent's brooding wings,
The welcome stall to the o'erlabour'd steer,
Whate'er of peace about our hearth-stone clings,
Whate'er our household gods protect of dear,
Are gather'd round us by the look of rest;

Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's breast.

HEXAMETER-see Pentameter.

Cowper.

Byron, D. J. III. 123.

Strongly it bears us along, in swelling and limitless billows,
Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean.
HISSING.
Coleridge, The Homeric Hexameter.

Scaly dragons hiss, and lions roar,
Where wisdom taught, and music charm'd before.

HISTORY-see Authors.

Lillo, Fatal Curiosity, 1: 1.

There is the moral of all human tales;

'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past,

First freedom, and then glory-when that fails,
Wealth, vice, corruption-barbarism at last,

And history, with all her volumes vast,

Hath but one page.

HOBBIES.

Byron, Childe Harold, Iv. 108.

One master passion in the breast,

Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. Pope, E. M.11.131.

The ruling passion, be it what it will,

The ruling passion conquers reason still. Pope, M. E. 111. 153. HOLIDAYS.

If all the year were playing holidays,

To sport would be as tedious as to work;

But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. Sh. Hen. IV. 1. 111.2.

HOLLY.

A hedge of holly thieves, that would invade,

Repulses like a growing palisade:

Whose numerous leaves such orient green invest,
As in deep winter do the spring arrest.

Cowley.

HOLLY-continued,

HOLLY-HOME.

O reader; hast thou ever stood to see
The holly tree?

The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves;

Order'd by an intelligence so wide

As might confound an Atheist's sophistries.
Below a circling fence its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;

No grazing cattle through their prickly round
Can reach to wound;

But, as they grow where nothing is to fear,

Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.

HOME-see Absence.

253

Southey.

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. Sh. Two G. 1. 1.

Seeing the snail, which everywhere doth roam,
Carrying his own home still, still is at home,
Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail;

Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.
The whole world, without a native home,

Is nothing but a prison of larger room.

Sh. Poems.

Cowley, to the Bishop of Lincoln.

And when from wholesome labour he doth come,
With wishes to be there, and wish'd-for home,
He meets at door the softest human blisses,

His chaste wife's welcome, and dear children's kisses.

Cowley, Trans. Georg. II. 458.

The little smiling cottage, when at eve
He meets his rosy children at the door,
Prattling their welcomes, and his honest wife
With good brown cake and bacon slice, intent
To cheer his hunger after labour hard.

Dyer, The Fleece, 1.

Home is the resort

Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where
Supporting and supported, polish'd friends,
And dear relations mingle into bliss.

Thomson, Autumn.

There's a strange something, which without a brain
Fools feel, and which e'en wise men can't explain,
Planted in man, to bind him to that earth,

In dearest ties, from whence he drew his birth.

Churchill, The Farewell, 63.

The first sure symptom of a mind in health,
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home.

Young, N. T. 8.

Such is the patriot's boast, where'er he roam,

His first, best country, ever is at home. Goldsmith, Trav. 73.
This fond attachment to the well-known place
When first we started into life's long race,
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway,

We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day. Cowper, Tirocin.

On thy calm joys with what delight I dream,
Thou dear green valley of my native stream!
Fancy o'er thee still waves th' enchanting wand,
And every nook of thine is fairy land.

Bloomfield, Broken Crutch. The parted bosom clings to wonted home,

If aught, that's kindred, cheer the welcome hearth. Byron, C.H.
He enter'd in his house-his home no more,
For without hearts there is no home ;-and felt
The solitude of passing his own door
Without a welcome.

Byron, D. J. 111. 52.

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark,
Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home.;
"Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.

And say, without our hopes, without our fears,
Without the home that plighted love endears,
Without the smile from partial beauty won,

Ib. 1. 123.

Oh! what were man ?—a world without a sun. Campbell, P.H.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead,

Who never to himself hath said,

[11. 21.

This is my own, my native land!

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,

As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,

From wandering on a foreign strand.

Scott, Lay, vi. 1.

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection recalls them to view :-

The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,
And every lov'd spot which my infancy knew.

My country, sir, is not a single spot
Of such a mould, or fixed to such a clime;
No, 'tis the social circle of my friends,
The lov'd community in which I'm link'd,

Woodworth, (Am.).

And in whose welfare all my wishes centre. Miller, Mahomet.