ong_. LORD LYTTELTON.

PAINTING.

The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
_Monody on the Death of the Rt. Hon. R.B. Sheridan_. LORD BYRON.

Hard features every bungler can command:
To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.
_To Mr. Lee, on his Alexander_. J. DRYDEN.

A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
_Retaliation_. O. GOLDSMITH.

Lely on animated canvas stole
The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.
_Horace, Bk. II. Epistle I_. A. POPE.

I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
_Timon of Athens, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

With hue like that when some great painter dips
His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
_The Revolt of Islam_. P.B. SHELLEY.

PARTING.

To know, to esteem, to love,--and then to part,
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart.
_On Taking Leave of_ ----. S.T. COLERIDGE.

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love;
And, when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between and bid us part?
_Song_. J. THOMSON.

Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
The one and the other, a sea;--
Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
A gleam on the years that shall be!
_A Lament_. E. BULWER-LYTTON.

Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
_Childe Harold, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.

We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet;
One little hour! and then, away they speed
On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam,
To meet no more.
_Life Drama, Sc. 4_. A. SMITH.

He did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving as the fits and stirs of his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sailed on.--
How swift his ship.
_Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

But in vain she did conjure him,
To depart her presence so,
Having a thousand tongues t'allure him
And but one to bid him go.
When lips invite,
And eyes delight,
And cheeks as fresh as rose in June
Persuade delay,
What boots to say
Forego me now, come to me soon?
_Dulcina_. SIR W. RALEIGH.

Good ni