Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, From Macedonia's madman to the Swede.

902 POPE: _Essay on Man,_ Epis. iv., Line 219.

Whoe'er excels in what we prize, Appears a hero in our eyes.

903 SWIFT: _Cadenus and Vanessa,_ Line 729.

To the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free Death's voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be!

904 HALLECK: _Marco Bozzaris._

Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.

905 POPE: _Iliad,_ Bk. xv., Line 157.

=Hills.=

The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.

906 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _Thanatopsis._

I have looked on the hills of the stormy North, And the larch has hung his tassels forth.

907 HEMANS: _The Voice of Spring._

=History.=

History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.

908 BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto iv.; St. 108.

=Holiday.=

If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

909 SHAKS.: _1 Henry IV.,_ Act i., Sc. 2.

There were his young barbarians all at play; There was their Dacian mother: he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday!

910 BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto iv., St. 141.

=Holiness.=

Whoso lives the holiest life Is fittest far to die.

911 MARGARET J. PRESTON: _Ready._

=Homage.=

When I am dead, no pageant train Shall waste their sorrows at my bier, Nor worthless pomp of homage vain Stain it with hypocritic tear.

912 EDWARD EVERETT: _Alaric the Visigoth_

=Home.=

Home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polish'd friends And dear relations mingle into bliss.

913 THOMSON: _Seasons, Autumn,_ Line 65.

This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.

914 COWPER: _Tirocinium,_ Line 314.

This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

915 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: _Requiem._

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home.

916 J. HOWARD PAYNE: _Home, Sweet Home._

Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

917 WORDSWORTH: _To a Skylark._

=Homer.=

Read Homer once, and you can read no more, For all books else appear so mean, so poor; Verse may seem prose; but still persist to read, And Homer will be all the books you need.

918 SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE: _Essay on Poetry_

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne, Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold.

919 KEATS: _On first looking into Chapman's Homer._

Seven cities warred for Homer being dead; Who living had no roofe to shrowd his head.

920 THOMAS HEYWOOD: _Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells._

=Honesty.=

An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds.

921 SHAKS.: _Othello,_ Act v., Sc. 2.

A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod; An honest man's the noblest work of God.

922 POPE: _Essay on Man,_ Epis. iv., Line 247.

=Honor.=

Too much honor: O, 'tis a burthen, ... 'tis a burthen, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

923 SHAKS.: _Henry VIII.,_ Act iii., Sc. 2.

Honor travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path.

924 SHAKS.: _Troil, and Cress.,_ Act iii., Sc. 3.

Honor's a fine imaginary notion, That draws in raw and unexperienced men To real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.

925 ADDISON: _Cato,_ Act ii., Sc. 5.