Next saw we _Dread_, all trembling, how he shook, With foot uncertain, proffer’d here and there; Benumb’d with speech; and with a ghastly look, Search’d every place, all pale and _dread_ for fear; His cap borne up with starting of his hair; ’Stoun’d and amazed at his own share for _dread_, And fearing greater dangers than was need. _Sackville._ Thou attended gloriously from Heaven, Shall in the sky appear, and from thee send The summoning archangels to proclaim Thy _dread_ tribunal. _Milton._ Who the Creator love, created might _Dread_ not; within their tents no terrors walk. _Coleridge._ As if a lark should suddenly drop dead While the blue air yet trembled with his song, So snapped at once that music’s golden thread, Struck by a nameless fear, that leapt along From heart to heart, and like a shadow sped With instantaneous shiver through the throng; So that some glanced behind, as half aware A hideous shape of _dread_ were standing there. As when a crowd of pale men gather round, Watching an eddy in the leaden deep, From which they deemed the body of one drowned Will be cast forth; from face to face doth creep An eager _dread_, that holds all tongues fast bound, Until the horror, with a ghastly leap, Starts up, its dead blue arms stretched aimlessly, Heaved with the swinging of the careless sea. _J. R. Lowell._ DUST. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for _dust_ thou art, and unto _dust_ shalt thou return.--Genesis, iii. 19. All flesh shall perish together, and man shall turn again unto _dust_.--Job, xxxiv. 15. All go unto one place; all are of the _dust_, and all turn to _dust_ again.--Ecclesiastes, iii. 20. Then shall the _dust_ return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.--Ecclesiastes, xii. 7. Fear no more the frown o’ the great, Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke: Care no more to clothe and eat, To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to _dust_. _Shakspere._ Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame, Earth’s highest station ends in “here he lies;” And “_dust_ to _dust_” concludes her noblest song. _Young._