God hath sworn to lift on high
Who sinks himself by true humility.
Miscellaneous Poems:  At Hooker’s Tomb.  J. KEBLE.

HUNTING.

  Soon as Aurora drives away the night,
  And edges eastern clouds with rosy light,
  The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn,
  Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn.
Rural Sports, Canto II.  J. GAY.

  Together let us beat this ample field,
  Try what the open, what the covert yield.
Essay on Man, Epistle I.  A. POPE.

   My hoarse-sounding horn
  Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings;
  Image of war without its guilt.
The Chase.  W.C.  SOMERVILLE.

  Contusion hazarding of neck or spine,
  Which rural gentlemen call sport divine.
Needless Alarm.  W. COWPER.

  My hawk is tired of perch and hood,
  My idle greyhound loathes his food,
  My horse is weary of his stall,
  And I am sick of captive thrall. 
  I wish I were as I have been
  Hunting the hart in forests green,
  With bended bow and bloodhound free,
  For that’s the life is meet for me!
The Lady of the Lake:  Lay of the Imprisoned Huntsman,
  Canto VI.  SIR W. SCOTT.

  Oh! what delight can a mortal lack,
  When he once is firm on his horse’s back,
  With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong,
  And the blast of the horn for his morning song!
The Hunter’s Song.  B.W.  PROCTER (Barry Cornwall).

  See from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
  And mounts exulting on triumphant wings;
  Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
  Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Windsor Forest.  A. POPE.

  But as some muskets so contrive it,
  As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
  And though well aimed at duck or plover,
  Bear wide, and kick their owners over.
McFingal, Canto I.  J. TRUMBULL.

HYPOCRISY.

  Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
    Thy praise, Hypocrisy!  Oh, for a hymn
  Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt,
    Not practise!
Don Juan, Canto X.  LORD BYRON.

  For neither man nor angel can discern
  Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
  Invisible, except to God alone,
  By his permissive will, through heaven and earth.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  III.  MILTON.

  Away, and mock the time with fairest show;
  False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
Macbeth, Act i.  Sc. 7.  SHAKESPEARE.

  O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! 
  Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?
Romeo and Juliet, Act iii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE. 
  Dissembling courtesy!  How fine this tyrant
  Can tickle where she wounds!
Cymbeline, Act i.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.