There, throned in solitary calm, forget
Who wrung thy heart:
Long hours and days of silent years may yet
Restore a part
Of that large heritage and realm sublime,
Which, love-elate,
Thou fain would'st barter for the fields that time
Makes desolate.
OF A NEW MARRIED STUDENT THAT PLAYED FAST AND LOOSE
A student, at his book so placed
That wealth he might have won,
From book to wife did flit in haste,
From wealth to woe to run.
Now, who hath played a feater cast,
Since juggling first begun?
In knitting of himself so fast,
Himself he hath undone.
Sir T. More (?)
MARRIAGE AND BOOKS
I understand with a deep sense of sorrow of the indisposition of your Son: I fear he hath too much mind for his body, and that superabounds with fancy, which brings him to these fits of distemper, proceeding from the black humour of melancholy: moreover, I have observed that he is too much given to his study and self-society, 'specially to converse with dead men, I mean Books: you know anything in excess is naught. Now, sir, were I worthy to give you advice, I could wish he were well married, and it may wean him from that bookish and thoughtful humour.—J. Howell. Familiar Letters.
MARRIAGE! MY YEARS ARE YOUNG
Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are young,
And fitter is my study and my books
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.