Thursday, May 14, 2009

Quotations on Beauty


Look! how he laughs and stretches out his


And opens wide his bine eyes upon thine,
To hail his father ; while his little form
Flutters as winged with joy. Talknotofpain !
The childless cherubs well might envy thee
The pleasures of a parent,
a. Byron—Cain. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 171.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps ;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ;
She, while the lovely baby unconscious lies.
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive

eyes. 6. Campbell—Pleasures of Hope. Pt. I.

L. 225.

When you fold your hands, Baby Louiso! Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair. With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air, Are you trying to think of some angel-taught


You learned above, Baby Louise? e. Margaret Eytingr—Baby Louue.

Baloo, baloo, my wee, wee thing.

d. Richard Gall—Cradle Sotig.

What is the little one thinking about?
Very wonderful things, no doubt;

Unwritten history!

Unfathomcd mystery!

Yet he laughs and cries, and eats and drinks,
And chuckles and crows, and nods and winks,
As if his head were as full of kinks
And curious riddles as any sphinx !

e, J. G. Holland—Bitter-Sweet. Firtt

Movement. L. 6.

When the baby died, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh ami


The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was

bowed That men's eyes might not see

Her misery. /. Helen Hunt— When the Baby Died.

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,

And sweet the old man's rest— But middle age by no fond wile,

No soothing calm is blest.

g. Kbble— The Christian Year. St. Philip and St. James. St. 3.

Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by

giving: Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by

wasting 1 Black manhood comes when riotous guilty

living Hands thee the cup that shall be death in


A. Charles Lamb— The Girpsy's Malison. Sonnet in Letter to Mrs. Prpcter, Jan. 29, 182!).

A tight little bundle of wailing and flannol, Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life. i. Fred. Locker— The Old Cradle.

The hair she means to have is gold,

Her eyes are blue, she 's twelve weeks old,

Plump are her fists and pinky.
She fluttered down in lucky hour
From some blue deep in yon sky bower—

I cull her " Little Dinky."
j. Fred. Locker—Little Dinky.

O child ! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of the morn is shed,
Like a celestial benison I
Here at the portal thou dost stand.
And with thy little hand
Thou openest the mysterious gate
Into the future's undiscovered land.
k. Longfellow—To a Child.

A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping.

I. Samcel Lover—The Angeti Whitper.

Her beads while she numbered, The baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face, as she bended her


Oh! bless'd be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering

with thee. To. Samuel Lover— The Angel's Whisper.

He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay
With us was short, and 'twas most meet
That he should be no delver in earth's clod,
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To stand before his God :
O blest word—Evermore!
n. Lowell—Threnodia.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me and so I grew.
o. Geo. Macdonald—Song in " At The

Back of The North Wind." Ch. 33.

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the Everywhere into here.
p. Geo. Macdonald—Song in "At The

Back of The North Wind." Ch. 33.

And thou hast stolen a jewel. Death !
Shall light thy dark up like a Star.
A Beacon kindling from afar
Our light of love and fainting faith.
q. Gerald Massey—Babe Christabet.

A sweet, new blossom of Humanity,

Fresh fallen from God's own home to flower

on earth. r. Gerald Massey—Wooed and Won. 32



You scarce could think so small a thing

Could leave a loss so large;
Her little light such shadow fling

From dawn to sunset's marge.
In other springs our life may be

In bannered bloom unfurled, But never, never match our wee

White Rose of all the world.

a. Uebald Massey—Our Wee White Rote.

Wee Willie Winkie rins through the 1mm,
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-goun,
Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed? for it's now

ten o'clock."
6. William Millke— Willie Wintie.

When the baby died we said.
With a sudden secret dread ;
" Death be merciful and pass ;-
Leave the other!"—but alas!
While we watched he waited there,
One foot on the golden stair,
One hand beckoning at the gate,
Till the home was desolate.

c. Noba Pebby—Lost and Gain.

As living jewels dropped unstained from heaven.

d. Pollock—Cottrte of Time. Bk. V.

L. 158.

A daughter and a goodly babe, Lusty and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in 't.

e. Winter'g Tale. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 27.

Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently all humbled kiss the rod !
/. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act I.

Sc. 2. L. 57.

God mark thee to his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed :
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
g. Romeo and Juliet. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 59.

Sleep, little baby! sleep!
A. Caroune Southky—In Vol. Entitled
Solitary Hours. To a Dying Infant.

A little soul scarce fledged for earth
Takes wing with heaven again for goal,

Even while we hailed as fresh from birth
A little soul.
». Swinburne—A Baby's Death.

Beat upon mine, little heart! beat, beat!
Beat upon mine! you are mine, my sweet!
All mine from your pretty blue eyes to your


My «weet! j. Tennyson—Song from Romney't


But what am I ?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
k. Tennyson—In Memariam. Pt. LIV.

St. 5.

Baby smiled, mother wailed.
Earthward while the sweetling sailed ;
Mother smiled, baby wailed,

When to earth came Viola.
I. Fbancis Thompson—The Making of

Viola. St. 9.

Smile, sweet baby, smile,

For you will have weeping-while;

Native in Heaven is your smile,—

But your weeping, Viola ? m. Francis Thompson—The Malting of

Viola. St. 10.

A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure. n. Tuppeb—Of Education.

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber,

Holy angels guard thy bed ! Heavenly blessings without number

Gently falling on thy head.

o. Watts—A Cradle Hymn.


I've now got the music book ready.
Do sit up and sing like a lady
A recitative from Tancredi,
And something about " Palpiti! "
Sing forte when first you begin it,
Piano the very next minute.
They'll cry " What expression there's in it! "
Don't sing English ballads to me!
p. Thomas Haynes Bayly—Don't Sing
English Ballads to Me.

Thespis, the first professor of our art,
At country wakes sung ballads from a cart.
q. Dbyden—Prologue to Sophonitba.

I knew a very wise man that believed that * * * if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation. r. Andbew Fletcher—Letter to the

Marquis of Montrose, the Earl of

Some people resemble ballads which are only sung for a certain time.

s. La Rochefoucauld—Maxims and

Moral Sentences. No. 220.

I have a passion for ballads. * * They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,—in the genial Summertime.

t. Longfellow—Hyperion. Bk. II.



For a ballad's a thing you expect to find

lies in. a. Samuel Loveb—PcuMy Blake's Echo.

I bad rather be a kitten, and cry mew ! Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. 6. Henry Hr. Pt. I. Act III. Sc. 1

L. 129.

I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

e. Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 187.

A famous man is Robin Hood,
The English ballad-singer's joy.
d. Wordsworth—Roll Roy's Grave.


The world was all before them, where to


Their place of rest, and Providence their guide; They, hand in hand, with wandering steps

and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way.
e. Milton—Paradise Last. Bk. XII.

L. 646.


O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word—banished?
/. Romeo and Juliet. Act III. Sc. 3.

L. 47.

Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but


Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy ; and pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'erbear.
g. Coriolanus. Act IV. Sc. 5. L. 133.

Have stooped my neck under your injuries
And sighed my English breath in foreign


Eating the bitter bread of banishment. h. Richard II. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 19.

No, my good lord : banish Peto, banish Bar- dolph, banish Poins; but for sweet Jack Fal- staff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is. old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company : banish plump Jack and banish all the world.

i. Henry IV. Pt. I. Act II. Sc.4.

L. 520.


Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. j. Addison—Cato. Act I. Sc. 4.

I must not say that she was true,

Yet let me say that she was fair; And they, that lovely face who view,

They should not ask if truth be there.

k. Matthew Arnold—Euphrosyne.

The beautiful are never desolate;
But some one alway loves them—God or man.
If man abandons, God himself takes them.
I. Bailey—Festus. Sc. Water and Wood.
Midnight. L. 370.

There's nothing that allays an angry mind
So soon as a sweet beauty.
m. Beaumont And Fletcher—The Elder
Brother. Act III. Sc. 5.

Ye gods! but she is wondrous fair !

For me her constant flame appears; The garland she hath culled, I wear

On brows bald since my thirty years. Ye veils that deck my loved one rare,

Fall, for the crowning triumph's nigh. Ye Gods! but she is wondrous fair!

And I, so plain a man am I!

n. Beranoer—Qu'elle estjolie.

Translated by C. L. Belts.

The beautiful seems right
By force of beauty, and the feeble wrong
Because of weakness.
o. E. B. Browning—Aurora Leigh. Bk. I.

The essence of all beauty, I call love,
The attribute, the evidence, and end,
The consummation to the inward sense
Of beauty apprehended from without,
I still call love.
p. E. B. Browning—Sword Glare.

And behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful. g. Bunyan—Pilgrim's Progress. Pt. I.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded. r. Byron—Don Juan. Canto 15. St. 43.

Her glossy hair was clustcr'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth ;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth.
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.
s. Byron—Don Juan. Canto I. St. 61.

She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless chimes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
t. Byron—She Walks in Beauty.




The light of love, the purity of grace,

The mind, the Muaic breathing from her face,

The heart whose softness harmonized the


And, oh ! the eye was in itself a Soul! a. Byron—The Bride of Abydos. Canto I.

St. 6.

Thon who hast The fatal gift of beauty 6. Byron— Childe Harold. Canto IV.

St. 42.

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess,
The might—the majesty of Loveliness ?

c. Byron— The Bride of Abydos. Canto I.

8t. 6.

Exceeding fair she was not; and yet fair
In that she never studied to be fairer
Than Nature made her; beauty cost her noth-
Her virtues were so rare.

d. George Chapman—All Fools. Act I.

Bo. I.

We do love beauty at first sight; and we do cease to love it, if it is not accompanied by amiable qualities.

e. Lydia Maria Child—Beauty.

She is not fair to outward view

As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew

Until she smiled on me:
Oh ! then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.

/. Hartley Coleridge—Song.

Her gentle limbs did she undress,
And lay down in her loveliness.
g. CoLKRiDOS—Christabel. Ft. I. St. 24.

'Twas not the fading charms of face
That riveted Love's golden chain ;

It was the high celestial grace
Of goodness, that ioth never wane—

Whose are the sweets that never pall,

Delicious, pure, and crowning all. h. Abraham Coles—The Microcosm and other Poem*. P. 244.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit. The power of beauty I remember yet, Which once inflam'd my soul, and still inspires my wit. i. Dryden—Cymon and Iphigenia. L.I.

She, though in full-blown flower of glorious


Grows cold, even in the summer of her age. j. Dryden—(Edipus. Act IV. Sc. 1.

When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind ! k. Dryden—Cymon and Iphigenia. L. 41.

If eyes were made for seeing, Then beauty is its own excuse for being. 1. Emebson—The Rhodora.

The beautiful rests on the foundations of the necessary. m. Emerson—Essay. On the Poet.

Who gave thee, 0 Beauty,

The keys of this breast,— Too credulous lover

Of blest and unblest? Say, when in lapsed ages

Thee knew I of old ? Or what was the service

For which I was sold ?

n. Emerson—Ode to Beauty. St. 1.

In beauty, faults conspicuous grow ;
The smallest speck is seen on snow.
o. G At—Fable. The Peacock, Turkey

and Goose. L. 1.

'Tis impious pleasure to delight in harm,
And beauty should be kind, as well as charm.
p. Geo. Gbantille (Lord Lansdowne)—
To Myra. L. 21.

The dimple that thy chin contains has beauty

in its round, That never has been fathomed yet by myriad

thoughts profound.
q. Hafiz— Odes. CXLIII.

Beauty was lent to nature as the type
Of heaven's unspeakable and holy joy,
Where all perfection makes the sum of bliss.
r. 8. J. Hale—Beauty. In JHct. of

Poetical Quotations.

There's beauty all around our paths, if but

our watchful eyes Can trace it 'midst familiar things, and

through their lowly guise, j. Mrs. He.manb—Our Daily Patlu.

Beauty is the index of a larger fact than wisdom.

t. 0. W. Holmes— The Professor at the

Breakfast Table. II.

A heaven of chnrras divine Nausicaa lay. u. Homeb— Odyssey. Bk. VI. L. 22.

Pope's trans.

A queen devoid of beauty is not queen ;

She needs the royalty of beauty's mien.

«. Victor Hugo—Eviradnus. V.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet

breathing. «'. Keats—Endymion. Bk. I. L. 1.



Beauty is truth, truth beauty,
a. Keatb—Ode on a Grecian Urn.

'Tis beauty calls, and glory shows the way.
6. Nathaniel Lee—Alexander the Great ;
or, The Rival Q>uxns. Act IV. Sc. 2.

Beautiful in form and feature,

I/ovely as the day,
Can there be so fair a creature
Formed of common clay?
c. Longfellow—Masque of Pandora.

The Workshop of Hephaestus.
Chorus of the Graces.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.
rf. Longfellow—The Wreck of the

Hesperus. St. 2.

Oh, could yon view the melodie

Of ev'ry grace.

And mnsick of her face,

You'd drop a teare,

Seeing more harmonie

In her bright eye,

Then now you heare.

e. Lovelace—Orpheus to Beasts.

Beauty, like wit, to judges should be shown ; Both most are valued where they best are

known. /. Lokd Lyttleton—Soliloquy of a

Beauty in the Country. L. 13.

Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle. g. Lord Lyttleton—Soliloquy of a

Beauty in the Country. L. 11;

Beauty and sadness always go together.
Nature thought beauty too rich to go forth
Upon the earth without a meet alloy.
h. Geoege Macdonald—Within and

Without. Pt. IV. Sc. 3.

0, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. t. Marlowe—Fautlus.

Was this the face that launch'd a thousand


And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a

kisa.— Her lips suck forth my soul; see, where it

flies!— j. Marlowe—Faustut.

Too fair to worship, too divine to love. k. Henry Hart Milman—The Belvidere


And ladies of the Hesperides, that seemed
Fairer than feign'd of old.

1. Milton—Paradise Regained, Bk. II.

L. 357.

Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,
Where most may wonder at the workmanship.
m. Milton—Comus. L. 746.

Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded,
But must be current, and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
n. Milton—Comus. L. 739.

* ' * for beauty stands

In the admiration only of weak minds
Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her


Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd. o. Milton—Paradise Regained. Bk. H.

L. 220.

Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces.
p. Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 13.

* * in naked beauty more adorn'd,
More levely than Pandora.

q. Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. IV.

L. 713.

Yet beauty, tho' injurious, hath strange power,
After offence returning, to regain
Love once possess'd.
r. Milton—Samson Agonistes. L. 1003.

The maid who modestly conceals
Her beauties, while she hides, reveals:
Gives but a glimpse, and fancy draws
Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
s. Edward Moore—The Spider and the

Bee. Fable X.

Not more the rose, the queen of flowers,
Outblushes all the bloom of bower.
Than she unrivall'd grace discloses;
The sweetest rose, where all are roses.

t. Moore—Odes of Anacreon. OdeLXVI.

To weave a garland for the rose,

And think thus crown'd 'twould lovelier be, Were far less vain than to suppose

That silks and gems add grace to thee.

«. Moore—Songs fromthe Greek Anthology. To Weave a Garland.

An' fair as was her sweet bodie,

Yet fairer was her mind :—
Menie's the queen among the flowers,

The wale o' womankind.

v. Robert Nicoll—Menie.

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