The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre
  Observe degree, priority and place,
  Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
  Office and custom, in all line of order.
Troilus and Cresida, Act .  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

PAIN.

  The scourge of life, and death’s extreme disgrace,
  The smoke of Hell, that monster called Paine.
Sidera:  Paine.  SIR P. SIDNEY.

  Nothing begins, and nothing ends,
    That is not paid with moan;
  For we are born in others’ pain,
    And perish in our own.
Daisy.  F. THOMPSON.

Pain is no longer pain when it is past. Nature’s Lesson.  M.J.  PRESTON.

  Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
  Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain.
Love’s Labor’s Lost.  Act i.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

  Alas! by some degree of woe
    We every bliss must gain;
  The heart can ne’er a transport know
    That never feels a pain.
Song.  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.