And but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
1755
SHAKS.:  1 Henry IV., Act i., Sc. 3.

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire, and talk’d the night away; Wept o’er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shoulder’d his crutch, and show’d how fields were won. 1756 GOLDSMITH:  Des.  Village, Line 155.

How shall we rank thee upon glory’s page, Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage? 1757 MOORE:  To Thomas Hume.

=Solitude.=

Solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
1758
MILTON:  Par.  Lost, Bk. ix., Line 249.

O solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face? 
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.
1759
COWPER:  Verses supposed to be written by Alex.  Selkirk, St. 1.

Man dwells apart, though not alone,
He walks among his peers unread;
The best of thoughts which he hath known,
For lack of listeners are not said.
1760
JEAN INGELOW:  Afternoon at a Parsonage, Afterthought.

It was a wild and lonely ride. 
  Save the hid loon’s mocking cry,
Or marmot on the mountain side,
  The earth was silent as the sky.
1761
HAMLIN GARLAND:  The Long Trail.

=Son.=

Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding.
1762
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act iii., Sc. 1.

The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven’s blessing thinks himself undone. 1763 YOUNG:  Love of Fame, Satire ii., Line 165.

=Song.=

And heaven had wanted one immortal song. 1764 DRYDEN:  Absalom and Achitophel, Pt. i., Line 197.

That not in fancy’s maze he wander’d long, But stoop’d to truth, and moraliz’d his song. 1765 POPE:  Prologue to the Satires, Line 340.

For dear to gods and men is sacred song. 
Self-taught I sing; by Heaven, and Heaven alone,
The genuine seeds of poesy are sown.
1766
POPE:  Odyssey, Bk. xxii., Line 382.

=Sonnet.=

Scorn not the sonnet.  Critic, you have frowned,
Mindless of its just honors; with this key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
1767
WORDSWORTH:  Scorn not the Sonnet.

=Sorrow.=

Give sorrow words:  the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’erfraught heart, and bids it break. 1768 SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act iv., Sc. 3.

One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir, That may succeed as his inheritor. 1769 SHAKS.:  Pericles, Act i., Sc. 4.

Nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow. 1770 BAILEY:  Festus, Sc. Home.

This is truth the poet sings, That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. 1771 TENNYSON:  Locksley Hall, St. 38.