Electric telegraphs, printing, gas,
    Tobacco, balloons, and steam,
  Are little events that have come to pass
    Since the days of the old regime. 
  And, spite of Lempriere’s dazzling page,
    I’d give—­though it might seem bold—­
  A hundred years of the Golden Age
    For a year of the Age of Gold.
The Two Ages.  H.S.  LEIGH.

  What cannot art and industry perform,
  When science plans the progress of their toil!
The Minstrel.  J. BEATTIE.

For out of the old fieldes, as men saithe,
Cometh al this new corne fro yere to yere,
And out of old bookes, in good faithe,
Cometh al this new science that men lere.
The Assembly of Foules.  CHAUCER.

JEALOUSY.

              O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
  It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
  The meat it feeds on.... 
  But, O, what damned minutes tells he o’er
  Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
Othello, Act iii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

Trifle, light as air,
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.
Othello, Act iii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

With groundless fear he thus his soul deceives: 
What phrenzy dictates, jealousy believes.
Diome.  J. GAY.

                          Nor jealousy
  Was understood, the injured lover’s hell.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  V.  MILTON.

Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
Othello, Act iii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

O jealousy,
Thou ugliest fiend of hell! thy deadly venom
Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue
Of my fresh cheek to haggard sallowness,
And drinks my spirit up!
David and Goliath.  H. MORE.

                       If I shall be condemned
  Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
  But what your jealousies awake, I tell you,
  ’Tis rigor, and not law.
Winter’s Tale, Act iii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not.
Othello, Act iii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

                  But through the heart
  Should Jealousy its venom once diffuse,
  ’Tis then delightful misery no more,
   But agony unmixed, incessant gall,
   Corroding every thought, and blasting all
  Love’s paradise.
The Seasons:  Spring.  J. THOMSON.

JESUS CHRIST.

  Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! 
  Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
Epiphany.  BISHOP R. HEBER.

  He was the Word, that spake it;
  He took the bread and brake it;
  And what that Word did make it,
  I do believe and take it.
Divine Poems:  On the Sacrament.  DR. J. DONNE.