41. You'll use up life in anxious cares, To lay up hoards for future years. GAY. 42. You think of all the bubbles men are chasing; They dream them worlds, because they're bright and fair; You sit down with your book, your fireside facing, And laugh to think of the wealth to which you are heir. CRANCH. 43. Impell'd with steps unceasing to pursue Some fleeting good that mocks thee with the view. GOLDSMITH. 44. You'll have a clear and competent estate, That you may live genteelly, but not great; As much as you can moderately spend, A little more, sometimes, to oblige a friend. _Pomfret's Choice._ 45. Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn'd if poor; Great, feared; fair, tempted; high, still envied more. SIR H. WOTTON. 46. GENTLEMAN.-- You love A blooming lady, a conspicuous flower, Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised, Whom you have sensibility to love, Ambition to attempt, and skill to win. WORDSWORTH. 46. LADY.--I fain would give to thee the loveliest things, For lovely things belong to thee of right. J. R. LOWELL. 47. Oh, you will still enjoy the cheerful day, Till many years unheeded by have roll'd; Pleased in your age to trifle life away, And tell how much you loved ere you grew old. HAMMOND--_Love Elegies_. 48. Endless labor all along, Endless labor to do wrong. DR. JOHNSON. 49. A fearful sign stands in thy house of life, An enemy;----a fiend lurks close behind The radiance of thy planet:--Oh, be warn'd! COLERIDGE. 50. Thy God, in the darkest of days, will be Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee. BARTON. 51. You were not meant to struggle from your birth, To skulk and creep, and in mean pathways range; Act with stern truth, large faith, and loving will, Up and be doing. J. R. LOWELL. 52. GENTLEMAN.--To die 'midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightning from the mountain cloud. HALLECK. 52. LADY.-- Death shall come Gently, to one of delicate mould like thee, As light winds wandering through groves of bloom Detach the delicate blossom from the tree. BRYANT. 53. I know that pleasure's hand will throw Her silken nets about thee, I know how lonesome friends will find The long, long days without thee; But in thy _letters_ there'll be joy, The reading, the replying; They'll kiss each word that's traced by thee, Upon thy truth relying. BAYLEY.