My memory now is but the tomb of joys long past. The Giaour.  LORD BYRON.

  Remembrance and reflection how allied! 
  What thin partitions sense from thought divide!
Essay on Man, Epistle I.  A. POPE.

  And memory, like a drop that night and day
  Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
Lalla Rookh.  T. MOORE.

  Of all affliction taught the lover yet,
  ’T is sure the hardest science to forget.
Eloisa to Abelard.  A. POPE.

  Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
  How often must it love, how often hate. 
  How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
  Conceal, disdain,—­do all things but forget.
Eloisa to Abelard.  A. POPE.

  To live with them is far less sweet
    Than to remember thee!
I saw thy form.  T. MOORE.

  The heart hath its own memory, like the mind
    And in it are enshrined
  The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought
    The giver’s loving thought.
From my Arm-chair.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

MERCY.

  The quality of mercy is not strained,—­
  It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
  Upon the place beneath:  it is twice blessed,—­
  It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 

  ’T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
  The throned monarch better than his crown;
  His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
  The attribute to awe and majesty,
  Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings: 
  But mercy is above this sceptred sway,—­
  It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
  It is an attribute to God himself;
  And earthly power doth then show likest God’s,
  When mercy seasons justice....

                   We do pray for mercy;
  And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
  The deeds of mercy.
Merchant of Venice, Act iv.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

Who will not mercie unto others show,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?
Faerie Queene, Bk.  VI.  Canto I.  E. SPENSER.

No ceremony that to great ones ’longs,
Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does.
Measure for Measure.  Act ii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge. Titus Andronicus, Act i.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

                         Yet I shall temper so
  Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most
  Them fully satisfied, and Thee appease.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  X.  MILTON.

MERRIMENT.

  Gold that buys health can never be ill spent,
  Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.
Westward Ho, Act v.  Sc. 3.  J. WEBSTER.

  Merrily, merrily, shall I live now
  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Tempest, Act v.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.