Triumphal arch, that fill’st the sky,
    When storms prepare to part;
  I ask not proud Philosophy
    To teach me what thou art.
To the Rainbow.  T. CAMPBELL.

  What skilful limner e’er would choose
  To paint the rainbow’s varying hues,
  Unless to mortal it were given
  To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?
Marmion, Canto VI.  SIR W. SCOTT.

  Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie
  Of thy Lord’s hand, the object of His eye! 
  When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
  Distinct, and low, I can in thine see Him
  Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne,
  And minds the covenant between all and One.
The Rainbow.  H. VAUGHAN.

READING.

  I had found the secret of a garret room
  Piled high with cases in my father’s name;
  Piled high, packed large,—­where, creeping in and out
  Among the giant fossils of my past,
  Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
  Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
  At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
  In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
  The first book first.  And how I felt it beat
  Under my pillow, in the morning’s dark,
  An hour before the sun would let me read!
Aurora Leigh, Bk.  I.  E.B.  BROWNING.

Come, and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow.
Titus Andronicus, Act iv.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

He furnished me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
Tempest, Act i.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

There studious let me sit,
And hold high converse with the mighty dead;
Sages of ancient time, as gods revered,
As gods beneficent, who blest mankind
With arts, with arms, and humanized a world.
The Seasons:  Winter.  J. THOMSON.

POLONIUS.—­What do you read, my lord? 
HAMLET.—­Words, words, words.
Hamlet, Act ii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

  O Reader! had you in your mind
    Such stores as silent thought may bring,
  O gentle Reader! you would find
    A tale in everything.
Simon Lee.  W. WORDSWORTH.

And choose an author as you choose a friend. Essay on Translated Verse.  EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

When the last reader reads no more. The Last Reader.  O.W.  HOLMES.

REASONS.

    All was false and hollow; though his tongue
  Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear
  The better reason, to perplex and dash
  Maturest counsels; for his thoughts were low;
  To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds
  Timorous and slothful:  yet he pleased the ear,
  And with persuasive accent thus began.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  II.  MILTON.

    Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as
  plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason
  upon compulsion.  I.
King Henry IV., Pt.  I. Act ii.  Sc. 4.  SHAKESPEARE.