If I speak to thee in Friendship’s name,
    Thou think’st I speak too coldly;
  If I mention Love’s devoted flame,
    Thou say’st I speak too boldly.
How Shall I Woo?  T. MOORE.

  Of all our good, of all our bad,
  This one thing only is of worth,
  We held the league of heart to heart
  The only purpose of the earth.
More Songs from Vagabondia:  Envoy.  R. HOVEY.

  It’s an owercome sooth for age an’ youth,
    And it brooks wi’ nae denial,
  That the dearest friends are the auldest friends
    And the young are just on trial.
Poems:  In Scots.  R.L.  STEVENSON.

  For friendship, of itself a holy tie,
  Is made more sacred by adversity.
The Hind and the Panther.  J. DRYDEN.

  O Friendship, flavor of flowers!  O lively sprite of life! 
  O sacred bond of blissful peace, the stalwart staunch of strife.
Of Friendship.  N. GRIMOALD.

FRIGHT.

I feel my sinews slacken with the fright,
And a cold sweat thrills down o’er all my limbs,
As if I were dissolving into water.
The Tempest.  J. DRYDEN.

                                 But that I am forbid
  To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
  I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
  Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
  Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
  Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
  And each particular hair to stand on end,
  Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: 
  But this eternal blazon must not be
  To ears of flesh and blood.
Hamlet, Act i.  Sc. 5.  SHAKESPEARE.

  Silence that dreadful bell:  it frights the isle
  From her propriety.
Othello, Act ii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

FUTURE.

                         Often do the spirits
  Of great events stride on before the events,
  And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
The Death of Wallenstein.  S.T.  COLERIDGE.

When I consider life, ’t is all a cheat. 
Yet, fooled with hope, men favor the deceit;
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay: 
To-morrow’s falser than the former day;
Lies worse; and, while it says we shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest. 
Strange cozenage! none would live past years again. 
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain.
Aureng-Zebe; or, The Great Mogul, Act iv.  Sc. 1.  J. DRYDEN.

           As though there were a tie,
  And obligation to posterity. 
  We get them, bear them breed and nurse. 
  What has posterity done for us,
  That we, lest they their rights should lose,
  Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?
McFingal, Canto II.  J. TRUMBULL.

The best of prophets of the Future is the Past. Letter, Jan. 28, 1821.  LORD BYRON.