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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 433

Thomas Moss. (1740–1808)
    Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
  Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
  Oh give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
          The Beggar.
    A pampered menial drove me from the door. 1
          The Beggar.
Anna Letitia (Aikin) Barbauld. (1743–1825)
    Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
          The Invitation.
    This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
          A Summer’s Evening Meditation.
    It is to hope, though hope were lost. 2
          Come here, Fond Youth.
      Life! we ’ve been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
  ’T is hard to part when friends are dear,—
  Perhaps ’t will cost a sigh, a tear;
  Then steal away, give little warning,
    Choose thine own time;
Say not “Good night,” but in some brighter clime
    Bid me “Good morning.”
Note 1.
This line stood originally, “A liveried servant,” etc., and was altered as above by Goldsmith.—Forster: Life of Goldsmith, vol. i. p. 215 (fifth edition, 1871). [back]
Note 2.
Who against hope believed in hope.—Romans iv. 18.

Hope against hope, and ask till ye receive.—James Montgomery: The World before the Flood. [back]