282 SELECT POETRY

On Folly’s lips-eternal tattlings dwell ;
Wisdom speaks little, but that little well ;
So lengthening shadeg the sun’s decline betray,
But shorter shadows mark meridian day.
. Bishop

 

Virtue’s a fund of unexhausted store,
For there the very wish for more is more.
Id.

 

Go to the bee ! and thence bring home,
(Worth all the treasures of her comb)
An antidote against rash strife ;
She, when her angry flight she wings,
But once, and at her peril, stings ;
But gathers honey—all her life. Id.,

 

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless child !

Shakspeare.

 

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough ;
But riches, endless, are as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Id.

 

‘Who best
Can suffer, best can do; best reign, who first
Well hath obeyed..

Milton,