is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
470
BYRON: _Don Juan,_ Canto iii., St. 86. 10.

=Danger.=

He that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
471
SHAKS.: _King John,_ Act iii., Sc. 4.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
472
SHAKS.: _1 Henry IV.,_ Act ii., Sc. 3.

Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
473
WORDSWORTH: _Character of the Happy Warrior._

=Dante.=

Oh their Dante of the dread Inferno,
Wrote one song--and in my brain I sing it.
474
ROBERT BROWNING: _One Word More,_ xvii.

=Daring.=

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
475
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act i., Sc. 7

The bravest are the tenderest,--
The loving are the daring.
476
BAYARD TAYLOR: _The Song of the Camp._

=Darkness.=

Lo! darkness bends down like a mother of grief
On the limitless plain, and the fall of her hair
It has mantled a world.
477
JOAQUIN MILLER: _From Sea to Sea,_ St. 4.

Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.
478
POPE: _Dunciad,_ Bk. iv., Line 649.

=Dart.=

Th' adorning thee with so much art
Is but a barb'rous skill;
'Tis like the pois'ning of a dart,
Too apt before to kill.
479
ABRAHAM COWLEY: _The Waiting Maid._

=Daughter.=

Still harping on my daughter.
480
SHAKS.: _Hamlet,_ Act ii., Sc. 2.

Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter!
Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
481
MOORE: _Lalla Rookh, The Fire-Worshippers._

=Dawn.=

The morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness.
482
SHAKS.: _Tempest,_ Act v., Sc. 1.

The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
483
SHAKS.: _1 Henry VI.,_ Act ii., Sc. 2.

Clothing the palpable and familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
484
COLERIDGE: _Death of Wallenstein,_ Act i., Sc. 1.

=Day, Days.=

At the close of the day when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.
485
BEATTIE: _The Hermit._

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
486
BYRON: _On my Thirty-sixth Year._

One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
487
WORDSWORTH: _Nutting._

=Death.=

Of all