POETS POISON
A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard becomes
Who void of envy, guile and lust of gain,
On virtue still and nature's pleasing themes
Poured forth his unpremeditated strain.
Thomson—Castle of Indolence. Canto I. St. 68. (Last line said to be "writ by a friend of the author.")
Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot. Edmund Waller—Miscellanies. Upon the Earl Of Roscommon's Translation of Horace—Ars Poetica. L. 41.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Swift)
3
God, eldest of Poets.
William Watson—England, my England.
4
He saw wan Woman toil with famished eyes;
He saw her bound, and strove to sing her free. He saw her fall'n; and wrote "The Bridge of Sighs";
And on it crossed to immortality.
William Watson-—Hood.
5
Threadbare his songs seem now, to lettered ken:
They were worn threadbare next the hearts of
men.
William Watson—Longfellow.
6
A dreamer of the common dreams,
A fisher in familiar streams,
He chased the transitory gleams
That all pursue;
But on his lips the eternal themes
Again were new.
William Watson—The Tomb of Burns.
It was Homer who inspired the poet.
Wayland-—The Iliad and the Bible.
8
In Spring the Poet is glad,
And in Summer the Poet is gay; But in Autumn the Poet is sad,
And has something sad to say.
Byron Forceythe Willson—Aviumn Song.
9
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton. Wordsworth—Excursion. Bk. I. L. 252.
10
And, when a damp
Fell round the path of Hilton, in his hand The '1 hing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains,—alas! too few.
Wordsworth—Miscellaneous Sonnets. Pt. II. Scorn not the Sonnet.
11
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise,
Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares,—The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays!
Wordsworth—Personal Talk.
12
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride;
Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
Following his plough, along the mountain side.
Wordsworth—Resolution and Independence. St. 7
POISON
13
What's one man's poison, signior,
Is another's meat or drink.
| author = Beaumont and Fletcher
| work = Love's Cure. Act
III. Sc. 2. Same in Lucretius. IV. 627.
Vipera Cappadocem nocitura mormordit; at ilia Gustato pent sanguine Caj uadceis.
A deadly echidna once bit a Cappadocian; she herself died, having tasted the Poisonflinging blood.
Demodocus. Trans, of his Greek Epigram.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Goldsmith, Wolcot)
15
Un gros serpent nr.ordit Aurele.
Que croyez-voLS qu'il arriva?
Qu' Aurele en mourut? Bagatelle!
Ce fut le serpent qui creva.
In a MS. commonplace book, written probably
at end of 18th Cen. See Aotes and Queries.
March 30, 1907. P. 246. Same attributed
to VlAiti'Lv.iiiiJ..—Nat. ad Ijoc. II. 421.
16
Hier aupres de Charenton
I in serpent morait Jean Freron,
Que croyez-vous qu'il arriva?
Ce fut le serpent qui creva. Imitation from the Greek. Found also in (Emres Complets de Voltaire. III. P. 1002. (1817) Printed as Voltaire's; attributed to Piron; claimed for Freron.
The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
| author = Goldsmith
| work = Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.
| note = Same idea in Manasses—Fragmenla. Ed. Boissonade. I. 323. (1819)
| seealso =
| seealso = (See also Demodocus)
18
While Fell was reposing himself in the hay,
A reptile concealed bit his leg as he lay;
But, all venom himself, of the wound he made
light, And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite. Lessing—Paraphrase of Demodocus.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Demodocus)
19
All men carry about them that which is povson to serpents: for if it be true that is reported, they will no better abide the touching with man's spittle than scalding water cast upon them: but if it happen to light within their chawes or mouth, especially if it come from a man that is fasting, it is present death.
Pliny—Natural History. Bk. VII. Ch. II. Holland's trans.
In gahrend Drachengift hast du
Die Milch der frommen Denkart mir verwandelt.
To rankling poison hast thou turned in me
the milk of human kindness.
Schiller—Wilhelm Tell. IV. 3. 3.
Venenum in auro bibitur.
Poison is drunk out of gold.
Seneca—Thyestes. Act III. 453.
