Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;
Long as there are violets,
They will have a place in story:
There's a flower that shall be mine,
'Tis the little Celandine.
Pleasures newly found are sweet
When they he about our feet:
February last, my heart
First at sight of thee was glad;
All unheard of as thou art,
Thou must needs, I think have had,
Celandine! and long ago,
Praise of which I nothing know.
CEREMONY
What infinite heart's ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy?
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
What art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony,
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.
To feed were best at home;
From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.
Ceremony was but devised at first
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
CHALLENGE
(See also Duelling)
If not, resolve, before we go.
That you and I must pull a crow.
Y' 'ad best (quoth Ralpho), as the Ancients
Say wisely, have a care o' the main chance.
Butler—Hudibras. Pt. II. Canto II. L.
499.
I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
Henry IV. Pt. I. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 52.
n There I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing.
Richard II. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 46.
But thou liest in thy throat; that is not the
matter I challenge thee for.
Twelfth Night. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 172.
An I thought he had been valiant and so
cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned
ere I'ld have challenged him.
Twelfth Night, Act III. Sc. 4. L. 311.
CHAMPAC
Michelia Champaca
The maid of India, blessed again to hold
In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold.
Moore—Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of
Khorassan.
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CHANCE
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!
Bailey—Festus. A Country Town.
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| page = 92
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{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.
Burns—Epistle to a Young Friend.
,
Le hasard c'est peut-etre le pseudonyme de
Dieu, quand il ne veut pas signer.
Chance is perhaps the pseudonym of God
when He did not want to sign.
Anatole France—Le Jardin d'Epicure.
P. 132. Quoted "Le hasard, en definitive, c'est Dieu."
I shot an arrow into the air
It fell to earth I knew not where;
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
| author = Longfellow
| work = The Arrow and the Song.
Next him high arbiter
Chance governs all.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. II. L.909.
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| topic =
| page = 92
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Or that power
Which erring men call chance.
Chance is blind and is the sole author of creation.
J. X. B. Saintine—Picciola. Ch. III.
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade.
Chance will not do the work—Chance sends the breeze;
But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
The very wind that wafts us towards the port
May dash us on the shelves.—The steersman's
part is vigilance,
Blow it or rough or smooth.
I shall show the cinders of my spirits
Through the ashes of my chance.
