From mem'ry's length'ning chain to part
The object that we love,
How vain the pang that rends the heart,
What fruitless grief we prove!
The dear idea, cherish'd yet,
Returns still o'er and o'er,
And thinking that we should forget,
Impresses it the more.
[9] Who timidly asks teaches to deny.
Sicilian muse, begin a loftier strain;
The lowly shrubs and trees that shade the plain
Delight not all.
Dryden.
[11] Pointing to the chalking on the floor.
[12] Grace more lovely than beauty.
[13] No doubt most of my readers will prefer their own translations of my mottoes to any I could offer them; but for those who choose to avoid this trouble, I add my imitations, which claim no other merit than that of giving a general idea of the spirit of the original passage.
They through the wood their path descried,
Which climb'd the shaggy mountain's side;
Dark, narrow was the winding way,
O'er many a piercing stone it lay.
But when they left the forest's shade,
A spacious platform stood display'd,
On which a palace rose in sight,
The smiling scene of gay delight.
[14] "Ah! how beautiful she is!" "She is divinely formed."
[15] "If the ladies would allow him to take off their pelisses."